Hourglasses
by Prosopopeia
Summary: [TezuRyo, AUish] Echizen Ryoma has returned to Japan with a new goal in life: to make Tezuka Kunimitsu his. Chapter Eight.
1. Prologue

TezuRyo. Sappy, AU-ish, and hopefully not cheesy. First time writing these characters. That's all you need to know.

_Disclaimer: Me don't own Tenisu No Oujisama, k?_

* * *

**Hourglasses **

**Prologue**

* * *

_Echizen Ryoma spent five years in America, participating in numerous tournaments and gaining renown with every victory. He gained the title of being the best in a short time. Then just as quickly as he rose, he disappeared without a trace. There was uproar in the tennis community as they pondered the whereabouts of this young prodigy. Ryoma informed no one of his disappearance—not even his American coach. All they found was a letter in his hotel room telling all his fans and the rest of the world that he was appreciative of the time he had in America and that it was finally time for an end._

_His name is still mentioned in the record books. No one would ever lay eyes on another tennis player like him. He had far surpassed his father and any other player there ever lived. Echizen Ryoma was named a legend, and everyone respected his decision in retiring. It was a sad goodbye for the tennis world, but Ryoma had made his imprint everlasting. No one would forget what he accomplished at only the age of twenty-one._

* * *

"So, Echizen is back in Japan?"

"That's a safe enough assumption."

"Man, I can't believe he did that. Just up and left! That's so typical of him."

"I wonder why, though. It's rather unexpected."

"Hm…there are many speculations we can make. Perhaps Echizen simply grew bored."

"Inui, this is Ochibi we're talking about! He _doesn't_ get bored of tennis! That'd be insane!"

The conversation went on ceaselessly and while sitting silently in a corner, Tezuka began stirring his coffee. Beside him, Fuji smiled. "Is this boring you, Tezuka?" he inquired casually.

The taller man took a sip from his coffee calmly. Fuji chuckled lightly.

Ryoma's retirement was something that mystified everyone—including Fuji himself. No one knew why he had chosen such an early date to leave the tennis scene and the contemplation was more than anyone could bear. So they had all met up for a group discussion. Tezuka had only joined because Kawamura insisted, and the former wasn't so cruel as to reject the kind man's offer. They had been discussing the topic for over an hour now—sometimes digressing to past events but always returning eventually to the main topic. Tezuka had endured it all with an impassive expression as he read his book peacefully. Everyone knew not to disturb him.

It wasn't to say that he was not the slightest bit interested, though. Tezuka had originally thought Ryoma's decision had been sudden as well. But he wasn't going to discuss his opinions as fervently as his companions. It didn't feel right to gossip about a friend. So he kept to himself and absentmindedly listened to the exchanged words as he read his book. It was only when a dead silence greeted Tezuka's ears did he finally look up.

Everyone's attention was drawn to the figure that had just stepped into the parlor. Tezuka stared at him for a minute, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar before finally realizing whom it was. Echizen Ryoma had matured in the past few years. He had grown exponentially and now rivaled Tezuka's own height. His frame was lean but his face remained the same as ever. Those intense amber eyes of his remained forever alluring to strangers and a faint smirk painted his face as he walked towards Tezuka's table.

"It's impolite to talk about someone when they're not here," he greeted.

Instantaneous pandemonium ensued.

"Echizen! How did you know we were here!" cried out Momoshiro in shock.

"Ochibi!" shouted Kikumaru as he promptly pulled the younger man into a bone-crushing hug. Then he withdrew and eyed Ryoma from top to bottom. "Well, not really 'Ochibi' anymore, but it doesn't matter!"

Ryoma smiled slightly as the rest of his former teammates rushed up to greet him joyfully. Tezuka remained seated but caught the other's eye and nodded faintly. Ryoma smirked lightly as he pulled away from Momoshiro and Kikumaru's embrace.

"What was that you asked, Inui?" he inquired, looking curiously at the older man.

Inui crossed his arms. "Yes, well, we were all debating the issue on your retirement. So who else is better to ask than the person himself? Why did you suddenly disappear?" he repeated slowly.

Ryoma thought to himself for a moment. A slow smile crossed his pale face before he shrugged nonchalantly. Everyone listened raptly as he spoke. "I had a different goal in mind—and tennis wasn't related to it," he answered, eyeing everyone carefully.

The effect was immediate.

"A new goal? What is it? What is it? Oh _please_ tell us, Ochibi!" begged Kikumaru as he clamped down on the younger man's arm.

Fuji smiled thoughtfully to himself at the prospect of a new mystery. He looked at Ryoma again and frowned slightly. It was unlike the latter to be so mysterious, though—nor so outspoken. Those years in America must have influenced him greatly. He had only been sixteen when he left. That was quite a bit of time they had to catch up with. Fuji folded his arms and grinned. It was nice to have everyone together again. It brought on a pleasant sense of nostalgia.

"Does this mean you've given up on tennis?" cried out Momoshiro suddenly.

Ryoma looked at him. "No," he replied evenly, "I just have something else in mind right now."

"The chances of this happening are very slim. I would never have predicted it," murmured Inui as he scribbled away in his notebook.

"So what is it?" repeated Kikumaru enthusiastically.

Ryoma gave no response and instead walked up to where Tezuka was situated. The latter had been reading his book up until the point Ryoma's shadow was cast over him. He glanced upwards and saw the younger man staring at him wryly.

"Are you busy, Buchou?" he inquired offhandedly.

For a moment Tezuka felt the urge to correct Ryoma, but decided against it. The latter refused to call him otherwise no matter how many times he had insisted. "Why?" he replied, arching an eyebrow slightly.

Ryoma gave an impish grin as he leaned down on the table. "I have a question for you," he stated formally. Tezuka gazed back at him patiently as he waited for Ryoma to continue. The amber-eyed man placed a chin in his hand as he spoke, a mixed expression of amusement and wonder on his face. "How about we go on a date?"

For a second time that day the entire café parlor went silent.

* * *

**TBC**

The parts do get longer, trust me. Prologues are usually very short for me. xD


	2. Reality's Unreality

* * *

**Hourglasses**

**Chapter I**

* * *

Tezuka was sure he was in a dream.

It was cold out, the gusty wind blowing through the bare trees and making their branches sway gently in the air. The sky was an eerie cold blue and the same description could be used to describe how Tezuka felt. He was numb. He didn't quite know what to think when Ryoma posed his question at the café. So his automatic response came out, "All right." It was a strange occurrence and one that Tezuka would never forget. Ryoma beamed at him while everyone else's reactions ranged through different degrees of confusion and excitement. Tezuka still didn't know what to feel.

He had been sitting on the swing for a while now, trying to gather his thoughts. Ryoma sat directly beside him, swinging slowly back and forth. Even this action proved to be hypnotizing, thus furthering the conception Tezuka had of being in a dream. But he knew he wasn't—for a deep sense of confusion and doubt was lodged firmly at the bottom of his stomach, protesting violently against the wishful fantasies of his mind.

It had been a nice afternoon, though, despite everything. This Tezuka could not deny.

"Did you have fun?" inquired Ryoma suddenly, facing Tezuka, twisting his seat around in doing so.

Tezuka blinked once. "Yes," he answered simply, almost without a hint of hesitation. Such was his disposition. He was confused about Ryoma's intentions, yes, but he was in perfect harmony with his own.

The golden-eyed man smiled cheekily. "Good," he promptly replied, seemingly satisfied.

They then went back to their companionable silence. Tezuka thought to himself for a bit before finally deciding against what his mind told him. As a rule of thumb, he usually stayed clear from asking questions—he was never quite so involved with something or someone to be so inquisitive. But this was something new. One could almost say Ryoma had imposed this situation on him. There was nothing Tezuka could do but ask—or just suffer from the constant wondering of his mind. And he was sure Ryoma had done this on purpose. The latter could prove to be someone even Fuji would have some intimidation of.

"Echizen," he began in a bland tone. Ryoma cast him a sidelong glance. "Why did you ask me out?"

Ryoma's face was devoid of any facial quirks, but Tezuka could practically see the younger man smirking mentally. It was an accomplishment for anyone when Tezuka was the one to ask the questions.

"Hmm…I wonder," commented Ryoma airily before shrugging. "Does it bother you?"

Now it seemed their roles were back to normal. This was a routine Tezuka was accustomed to—answering people's questions. But Ryoma's was an odd one. Throughout all his contemplation of the situation he had failed to address the subject of his own feelings. Tezuka remained silent for a while. He was not particularly bothered by Ryoma asking him out. He was simply curious. Out of all the people in the world that Ryoma was sure to have known, why did he choose Tezuka? The latter did not understand at all.

"It doesn't bother me," he said finally.

Ryoma looked at him again, an amused expression on his face. "Still just as straightforward as ever, Buchou," he remarked. He then stood up and stretched slowly before facing Tezuka wonderingly. "Now…what should we do?"

Tezuka stood up as well. "When do you need to be home?" he inquired.

An arched eyebrow greeted him. "What? I'm not twelve anymore, Buchou," he reminded the older man with some scorn.

For once Tezuka was caught off guard. "Yes…," he murmured, as if just realizing this fact. He then nodded curtly. "Then what do you suggest?"

"I have this game I've been wanting to buy. Is that all right?"

"It's fine."

So the two began heading out of the park, walking side by side. Tezuka still could not comprehend the strangeness of the situation. He had always considered Ryoma a friend, and someone he could relate to on some levels. He never imagined the possibility of this ever occurring. Inui's own bafflement on the issue was precisely the way he felt. It was illogical, yet Ryoma continued on without a single care. It was typical of him, yes, but Tezuka thought that he would at least be more expressive of his own thoughts on such a serious topic. It seemed, however, Ryoma would keep his intentions until he felt the need to divulge them.

Now this Tezuka could understand. He himself was very much the same way, though not nearly as playful and mischievous as Ryoma. He did see why Ryoma was hiding his true motives, though. In a situation like this it was easy to lose everything in a single instant. The risks were high. But Tezuka was willing to play along for now. There was no harm in doing so.

They reached a crowded street. Even despite the below zero temperature, people swarmed through the area like bees, going in and out of stores. Tezuka watched them all for a moment before Ryoma proceeded in leading him to a small corner store where he could clearly see numerous amounts of games and television sets in the display window. He stared at the store sign for a bit, faintly thinking to himself on how he had never been in this kind of place. Ryoma took this expression in with a small smile on his face before pushing Tezuka through the door.

Instant warmth greeted both of them, and Tezuka suddenly remembered how cold he had been. The store's heat restored some feeling back in his hands and he took off his gloves with some appreciation. Ryoma made a beeline to the back and Tezuka followed, staring at the ads and merchandise with something akin to amazement. Video games were never his forte—the one time he had played was against Kawamura and it was some sort of fighting game. Needless to say Tezuka had lost miserably. Momoshiro and the others laughed at him for about five minutes straight. It was one thing to have good coordination in tennis, but good eye-hand coordination in video games was something Tezuka couldn't quite handle with the same deftness.

"Is this boring you? We can go to a bookstore afterwards."

Tezuka snapped out of his reverie and looked at Ryoma, who had a small plastic bag in hand. "No, it's fine—" he began before Ryoma pulled him out of the store by the wrist. His eyes widened in surprise by this forceful gesture. "Echizen!"

Ryoma turned around with a grin. "Look," he said before they came to an abrupt halt.

Tezuka glanced upwards and saw that they were standing outside of a bookstore, right beside the store they had just come from. A slight feeling of amusement rose within him, almost making him smile. Ryoma could read the gratefulness in his eyes, though.

"What books do you read anyway?" he asked interestedly as they walked through the entrance.

Tezuka gazed across the bookshelves of potential reading material for a moment before answering. "Classics. Shakespeare, Chaucer, everything. Besides those I also like reading nonfiction works," he replied as he began walking down the first aisle.

Ryoma raised an eyebrow and scrutinized the books around them. "These are mysteries," he pointed out dryly.

"I sometimes digress from my usual tastes," answered Tezuka with a light smile.

"Is that so? Hmm… Oh, look it's Holmes. I knew he'd be here somewhere," murmured Ryoma as he crouched down to the floor to pull out a thick book. He flipped through it offhandedly before glancing up at Tezuka. "I never did like mysteries."

Tezuka looked at Ryoma calmly. The latter continued.

"Too much suspense and wondering. I think Inui and Fuji would like them, though. I prefer horror and fantasy more."

Tezuka smiled as the young man straightened up and placed his hands in his pockets, casually leaning against a pole. Ryoma's preferences were something that always created some fun for everyone. The latter was generally indifferent towards everything—but when it came down to certain things that he did like—he liked them in that specific way. No one could change his mind. It made Momoshiro and Kikumaru often rage in frustration on his unshakable obstinacy.

"Why's that?"

A lazy look was thrown in Tezuka's direction. "Horror gives you a true perspective of the ugly side of humanity. And fantasy just gives your imagination some fuel," he replied. He then glanced at the book in Tezuka's hand. "I read that when I was in elementary school back in New York. It was long—long and boring."

Tezuka looked down at the book in his hand with a faint impression of humor. "Oh? Should I choose another one then?" he inquired.

"Why don't we head over to the romance section?" suggested Ryoma. Tezuka stared at him mildly. The amber-eyed man shrugged. "I sometimes digress from my usual tastes."

The usage of Tezuka's own words amused him, but he did not show it. Instead the older man allowed Ryoma to once again take the lead. The romance section proved to be much more plentiful than the mystery section. Tezuka eyed the books down, looking for anything to catch his eye. He then caught glimpse of a relatively small book and pulled it out from the shelf. It was the title that caught his interest.

"_'The Great Gatsby'_? That was a good book," came Ryoma's voice from behind him.

Tezuka turned around, his eyes alighted with laughter. "Did you read every book here?" he queried.

Ryoma arched an eyebrow. "What? I'm not that bored. I read that one with my tutor while I was in America. I liked it. Romance, but definitely with a lot more depth and hidden meanings," he replied smoothly.

"Hmm," murmured Tezuka as he skimmed through the book. He then took it under his arm and continued to search through the shelves. Ryoma smiled.

It was odd, this "date." This was the first thought that crept into Tezuka's mind. In actuality it seemed more like they were just going out as two friends. But Tezuka had to remind himself that this indeed was a date. Ryoma just wasn't the type to go all out with dinner and a movie or anything extravagant. His simplicity charmed Tezuka, though. Had it been anything more spectacular he may have felt a bit suffocated. Ryoma knew him well—better than he would have originally thought considering all those years the former spent in America. Either Ryoma grew more perceptive of other people's behavioral patterns or Tezuka was simply predictable. He had a hunch it was probably a mixture of both.

"Would you mind if I asked you out again?"

Tezuka paused in his scan of book titles and leaned back to look at Ryoma. The latter stared down at him nonchalantly. Tezuka smiled briefly and stood up. "No—but on one condition," he started. At Ryoma's raised glance, he continued. "You tell me why you chose me."

"Didn't you ask this before? I don't know," responded Ryoma, folding back his arms behind his head. He remained silent for a short while before finally shrugging. "Since when did anyone need a reason for liking someone? They just do. I just decided to do something about it."

Ryoma's words were said bluntly and with hardly any reassurance, but Tezuka understood his message. Years of watching over the young man as a student and player gave him experience in reading those casual responses he gave out so freely.

"Fine, that's acceptable," he replied shortly as he headed over to the register. Tezuka could see a flash of surprise cross Ryoma's face before he covered it up.

When they left the store, both Tezuka and Ryoma felt their hearts lighten up considerably since the beginning of the day. It was as if an unspoken connection was made between the two and they were now allowed to be more relaxed in the other's presence. There was little catching up to do. Both of them knew each other's characters well enough to not be surprised by anything the other posed. On the other hand, despite being somewhat similar to each other, they were not so much to the point where they could get bored easily.

Tezuka knew Ryoma's quiet side, his sense of honor and pride, and the sharp tongue he possessed. What Ryoma knew about the former captain was his determination, his scholarly preferences, and some of the hidden emotions Tezuka kept behind his mask. They both didn't know how to be casual around each other, though. Perhaps this was the reason why Ryoma had gone off to do something he knew Tezuka was comfortable with—to achieve a sort of easy atmosphere. If that was the case then he had exceeded in doing this and much more.

"Buchou… Can I call you by your first name?"

The older man glanced to the side and saw Ryoma looking at him with a smirk. The question had been asked innocently—too innocently. Tezuka knew what Ryoma was thinking. "I think we've both known each other long enough to call the other by his first name," he replied lightly.

A rare, short laugh was issued from Ryoma that made his pale face glow. "Heh. All right then," he commented, his eyes silently congratulating Tezuka for his unforeseen wit.

The two walked on in companionable silence. It would come as a shock to any stranger passing them by to find out they were actually supposed to be on a date. Tezuka and Ryoma didn't walk far apart from each other—it was just the fact that they both held impassive expressions that could have indicated boredom. It would almost appear as if they didn't even know each other if it weren't for Ryoma occasionally saying something, causing Tezuka to nod in agreement.

They had passed by the park again. That had been their original meeting place. Tezuka wondered thoughtfully to himself on how in just a matter of a few hours how deep he had managed to entangle himself with Ryoma. The younger man was undoubtedly very good at achieving his goals. It was slightly perturbing, but Ryoma was not the type to gloat or act overbearing—something Tezuka was grateful for.

He agreed to continue going out with Ryoma because he was curious. If the latter saw something in him that he liked then perhaps he could do the same back. Tezuka was not much for romantic relationships—he barely had any experience. He had gone out on a few dates, though most were orchestrated by Kikumaru and Momoshiro—through deceit nonetheless—but they weren't all bad. The idea of going out with other men never really crossed his mind. He wasn't bothered by it, though. In fact Ryoma was probably the first person to ever get this close to Tezuka. This unnerved him slightly, but in a somewhat reassuring manner. He knew Ryoma would never take advantage of this fact. The latter simply wasn't like that.

Love. It was a strange word for Tezuka. He never experienced it, nor did he ever plan to—at least not yet. But Ryoma was always known as the wild card. Tezuka didn't think he would fall in _love_ with him. It was too soon for anything like that. But this sort of outing was not bad. In a way they were still exploring each other's personalities. And Tezuka had said before he sometimes digressed from his usual tastes. Ryoma was a mystery. He could afford some time now to find out what lied beneath the façade. The same could be said for Ryoma. They were similar—they knew each other well—yet there were still many factors and issues that neither knew how to address the other with. And that would be the point of intrigue.

"Are you hungry?"

Ryoma shot Tezuka an openly surprised expression before smiling wickedly. "You're used to feeding people aren't you?" he remarked wryly.

Tezuka didn't even need to answer that rhetorical question. He had Momoshiro as a friend for quite a few years now. He took up the appetite of three people. Fortunately Tezuka never spent too much time with him alone—but he always brought extra money now for precaution.

"There's a diner up ahead," he pointed out.

Ryoma shrugged. "Okay," he replied.

The diner was a quaint place with small booths and an American 50's theme. The waiters and waitresses wore old uniforms and even the food was cheaper. Tezuka had eaten here on a few occasions with the others. At the moment the diner was crowded since it was nearing dinner but the two had manage to acquire a private booth to themselves. After ordering their meals they sat quietly. Tezuka stared out the window, peacefully watching the outside world as small snowflakes began falling from the sky. In a matter of a few minutes the snow had managed to coat everything and everyone with a thin coat of white.

"I always liked winter in Japan the most," quipped Ryoma quietly. "In New York the snow melts so quickly and really is only beautiful during the first few hours. Afterwards it becomes nothing but dirty slush."

There was some scorn in his tone, but Tezuka could detect a bit of longing. "Do you miss your home?" he inquired.

Ryoma gave a small shrug. "I suppose. Tokyo is similar to it—but there's nothing like walking down Times Square at night," he replied, smiling fondly to himself.

"You didn't leave America just for me," stated Tezuka suddenly.

Ryoma blinked owlishly. "No, I didn't," he agreed slowly. He stretched his arms back and eyed Tezuka. "Tennis is great. I love it. But there really aren't any more good opponents. And besides…tennis isn't living."

These were words that Tezuka never expected to hear from Ryoma. It came as a shock—something even more sudden than him returning to Japan. But when he thought about it carefully, he could see where Ryoma's thoughts were going. Professional tennis was different from just playing tennis for fun. Pros loved their sport naturally, but the pressure and constant media could amount intolerably. It was hard sometimes to wonder if you were playing for yourself or for the world. The tone in Ryoma's voice was strange—almost bitter. Perhaps he too had experienced the joys and sorrows of being a renowned figure known across the globe.

"I never thought you would be like your father," remarked Tezuka.

Ryoma caught the undertone of humor and gave a mock scowl. "Excuse me, but I actually did go to the top and stayed there for quite some time. That damn father of mine gave up even before that," he pointed out.

Tezuka gave a half smile. "That is true," he said.

Then their dinner arrived. For half an hour they ate on with few remarks exchanged. In the end, with Tezuka's insistence, he paid for the meal and they were out again. The night sky was dark but the full moon was out. Tezuka and Ryoma walked slowly to take in the refreshing air and soft falling snow. This was more so like a dream than what Tezuka felt during the day. Their quiet treading echoed across the empty neighborhood as they journeyed out of the loud and bright mainstream, steady and unobtrusive. The lampposts lighted up around them, casting a warm light that gave everything an unearthly glow. Tezuka breathed out slowly, watching the warm vapor freeze in the cold air.

"I'll walk you home," he said.

"You don't have to."

"It's my duty."

At Ryoma's questioning gaze, Tezuka decided to clarify his point. "It's the least I can do. Besides, I am still older than you," he explained.

Ryoma gave a small grunt that sounded suspiciously like a disguised snort, but he shrugged carelessly as he looked back at Tezuka. "If you want to," he said.

Tezuka had been by Ryoma's home a few times in the past. It was a rather odd place to be living in, but it was nonetheless relatively large for only four people. In the quiet presence of the night it stood out even more outstandingly than ever before. Some of the lights inside were lit, indicating the presence of Ryoma's family. Tezuka walked him up to the front door and watched as the younger man slid the door open, pausing at the doorway before he went in.

"Shall I call you then?" he remarked, his trademark smirk in place.

This time it was Tezuka who shrugged. "Do as you please," he replied.

Ryoma's expression softened and Tezuka marveled at how the light made his skin appear almost ethereally. "Then I'll see you tomorrow, Kunimitsu," he said, a sincere smile on his lips this time.

His name rolled off his tongue effortlessly—and it didn't sound out of place in Tezuka's ears.

"See you then…Ryoma," he replied slowly.

The amber-eyed man gave him one last smirk before venturing inside. Tezuka turned around and began walking back in the other direction. It had been a good day.

* * *

TBC

Yes, so there's no real romance yet. It'll be a gradual thing. XD Me, write a fast romance? Ha, that's almost impossible.

Random Note: We finally had a winter storm in New York! This in the city is something so goddamn rare it's not even funny.

And thanks to those who reviewed the prologue. I hope you like this first installment as well. I pray neither of them are too out of character. If they are, bear with me for a bit. I'll get them straightened out eventually.


	3. The Wild Card

* * *

**Hourglasses**

**Chapter II**

* * *

The following day found Tezuka sitting at home with a textbook propped before him. A look of concentration was sprawled over his face as he idly tapped his pen against his lips. Dark eyes scanned through the reading and he occasionally paused to jot down a few notes in the margin. He had been studying for several hours now—ever since breakfast in fact. His mother had scolded him on his overzealous attitude in reviewing for the test, but Tezuka was not going to simply dismiss something as important as this exam. He hadn't been attending medical school for the past four years to just lounge about.

Sighing, Tezuka closed his eyes for a moment to give them a break. Everyone had been surprised when he decided to become a pharmacist. It was more so a field they expected from Inui, not the passionate tennis captain whom they had known throughout a majority of their adolescent years. For Tezuka it was not something unexpected. He always harbored a secret love for chemistry, though he was nowhere near as talented in the subject as Inui. When he decided to go into it in college, he found the challenge refreshing and welcomed it with open arms. So into the study of pharmaceuticals he went.

It was tedious work—and it required an enormous amount of memorization, but Tezuka still found joy in it. Besides, tennis could only bring him so far. Five years of being a pro and then into retirement—this was the normal formula followed. Tezuka wanted to find something with a little more stability. Nonetheless he still engaged in the sport actively. He was on his school team and he enjoyed it immensely. Tennis was a passion for him and he would never abandon it completely. He also needed the exercise since studying took a lot of time staying indoors and remaining immobile for several hours straight.

"Kunimitsu!"

Tezuka opened his eyes and looked towards his doorway where his mother's head peeped in.

"You have a phone call from Syusuke," she said with a smile. "You should take a break."

Tezuka smiled slightly and took the phone from her with a murmured thanks. His mother then left just as quietly as she came in and Tezuka spoke into the phone with his normal curtness. "Yes?"

"Just calling to see how the studying was doing," replied Fuji's ever-cheerful voice.

Tezuka glanced at his textbook. "Fine," he answered blandly.

"Well, that's good," continued Fuji immediately. Then a pause ensued. "I was wondering if you would like to go out for a small break. I heard your mother. It seems you're overworking yourself again," suggested Fuji, a hint of teasing in his tone.

"I really do need to—"

"Kunimitsu! You go take a break right now!" burst in Tezuka's grandfather suddenly.

Fuji's laughter could be heard in the background as Tezuka stared at the phone with some surprise. "Ojiisan…" he began before his grandfather broke in again.

"Really, Kunimitsu. I know you already have that book in your memory from front to back! Just go out and give _us_ a break."

Tezuka's grandfather normally was quiet and very respectful towards him. True he worried over him from time to time when he pushed himself too hard, but he had never resorted to such tactics to get him to relax. Tezuka remained quiet for a few moments before finally answering.

"I'll meet you up at the park then, Fuji," he said.

"Will do," replied Fuji brightly before hanging up.

Tezuka rested the phone on its cradle and shook his head slightly. He then stood up and stretched before wandering to his closet to take out his jacket and hat. The day was cold, he judged by looking at the frozen mist painting the windows, obscuring his view of the outside world. Wrapping a scarf around his black turtleneck, Tezuka then put on his hat and jacket. He headed down the stairs and met with his mother at the house's entrance.

"Have fun," she said warmly as she handed him his gloves. Tezuka took them and gave her a barely traceable smile before venturing outside.

The wind wasn't as chillingly biting as the previous day, but Tezuka's breath was still taken away by it. He quickly stuffed on the gloves over his numbing hands before shoving them deeply into his pockets. It was fascinating really—how winter was so utterly desolate and cold yet hauntingly beautiful at the same time. Tezuka was more accustomed to spring and summer, where the sun was warm and the skies a cheery blue. During these seasons he found himself much more active and running at a faster pace. When winter came, though, an inexplicable feeling of peace washed over him, making him feel less at tense. Despite it being the season where everything slept, Tezuka found himself more alive than ever before.

When he had finally made his way to the park, he almost expected to see Ryoma perched on one of the swings, shooting him a wry grin as he entered. But that image faded away quickly and was replaced all too soon by Fuji's own jovial smile. The latter looked to be impervious to the cold as he was donned in only a thin coat that made Tezuka wonder about the sanity of his longtime friend.

"Tezuka," greeted Fuji with a smile, "you look cozy."

The taller man didn't respond.

But Fuji remained immune to all this. "So after all these years of trying to get you to relax, it took a simple order by your grandfather to make it happen," he commented amusedly.

Tezuka stared at Fuji expectantly. He knew the latter had something else to say—something that he was keeping hidden for the time being. It made Tezuka feel somewhat edgy, but he pushed aside the discomfort. Fuji's manipulative mind and curiosity had changed little from the time they were still in their early teens—in fact Tezuka would say that Fuji had mastered the art to the point of perfection where he knew with a few simple words he would get what he want. It was a scary thought.

"You seem distracted."

At this Tezuka blinked in surprise and looked at Fuji. He had not meant for his thoughts to stray so far—he had been doing that more often than not as of late. Everyone claimed he was overworking himself. Tezuka knew it was for another reason. Things just didn't seem to hold his attention as much anymore.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" he inquired.

A strange, knowing smile made its way onto Fuji's face. "I asked you how your date went with Echizen," he said slowly.

Tezuka wondered mildly how he had managed to miss those words.

"It wasn't a date."

The smile grew wider. "Recreational hangout then," he rephrased smartly.

Tezuka stared impassively at Fuji. An eerie sort of silence was suspended between them for a moment before Fuji gave a short laugh, placing a friendly hand on Tezuka's shoulder.

"Let's go get something to eat," he suggested suddenly as he began leading the taller man away.

Tezuka remained indifferent as they walked and Fuji couldn't help but smile. It was with great perseverance and determination that he and the rest of the former Seigaku tennis team finally managed to get Tezuka to open up even in the slightest in recent years. The man was still as cool and collected as ever, but now there was the occasional sentence or comment that went along with his quiet persona.

So it had been a delight for him and the others to see the flabbergasted look on Tezuka's face when Ryoma had made his proposition only a day earlier. Such a rare occurrence was truly magnificent and Fuji was reminded once again that Tezuka was in fact human and that he _could_ be surprised. It was a shame that Ryoma had beaten him to it, though. But it was a defeat he could take with grace. The only thing that lingered on his mind now was the reasoning behind Ryoma's actions—and what exactly Tezuka thought of the situation. It was Ryoma who once warned him that his curiosity would prove to be his downfall one day, but Fuji was willing to take a chance on it at present. Repercussions, if any, could be dealt with later.

"Yesterday was reported to be the coldest day of the year thus far," he commented idly.

"Hn."

Fuji glanced at Tezuka and saw the man staring at the ground, deep in thought. Fuji's imagination worked overtime in coming up with different reasons for his friend's uncharacteristic behavior. If anything, he had noticed that Tezuka had been becoming more and more disinterested in the things he did—besides his studies. It was an unnatural phenomena and one that Fuji was hoping to find the answers to eventually. In addition to being curious, he was also growing slightly concerned about this change. Tezuka, despite having gained a less severe attitude, was still able to keep his emotions under a perfectly sculpted mask if the need arose. It was during these times that Tezuka hid his thoughts so efficiently that not even Fuji could hope to achieve any lead on what the man was thinking or feeling.

With Ryoma's arrival, though, Fuji felt another change occurring within Tezuka. It was not something he could see visibly—it was simply his instinct telling him so. And instinct never lied. Fuji pondered on this for a while. His investigation was still just in the budding stages. He first needed to obtain more of an opinion from Tezuka before he could assume anything, though he already had a vague feeling of what was to come—and it brought on a rather silly smile onto his face every time he thought about it. Ryoma's openly blunt confession had opened up new doors for Tezuka, and most likely the latter was still contemplating the issue. If anything, Ryoma always did have the natural prowess of being a very talented agitator. Fuji missed the thrill.

"I have a confession to make, Tezuka. I'm in love with Eiji—but I don't know how to tell him, especially since it doesn't seem like I'm the one that holds his greatest affections."

Tezuka looked sharply at Fuji, eyes widened to a marginal degree—but Fuji could read that expression. It plainly said, "Please don't tell me I just heard what I think I heard." The brown-haired man gave a chuckle.

"Nice to see I have your attention," he said lightheartedly.

An almost relieved look crossed Tezuka's face as they walked into a small café. They took a seat by the window and waited patiently as a young waitress came to take their orders. Each ordered hot chocolate drinks and an extra bagel for Fuji. It was well into the afternoon but the man could never deny fresh bread. After taking several minutes to thaw out, Fuji cast a watchful gaze over Tezuka as the man pulled off his scarf to wrap it neatly into his coat arm.

"We haven't been out like this in a while," he quipped.

"Hm," murmured Tezuka as he rested against his chair.

Fuji decided to wager on a dangerous topic. "You know this situation with Echizen might turn out to be a good experience for you," he said calmly.

Dark eyes bore deeply into Fuji's own azure. "Meaning?" he prompted quietly.

"You haven't been in a relationship for a while. I think this will be good for you—and you do go way back with him," continued Fuji, placing his chin on interlaced fingers, staring evenly back at Tezuka. He smiled inwardly at the quick flash of confusion in the latter's eyes before it was bottled away from public view.

Their orders then arrived and Fuji gave an inward _tsk_ at its untimely appearance. Tezuka adopted a more relaxed posture as he sipped his drink slowly, relishing its hotness. Fuji took his bagel and brought out a small packet from his pocket. He ripped it open and spread its contents over the neatly cut bagel. Fuji smiled as he prepared to take a bite. He did love wasabi.

"My situation isn't a spectacle."

Fuji looked at Tezuka in surprise. The dark-haired man had his hands folded and was regarding Fuji with a critical gaze—one that he knew all too well to simply shrug off with a smile. There was clear irritation and warning in Tezuka's look, the kind that promoted the halting of whatever its recipient was doing immediately. Fuji had seldom faced that look from Tezuka and knew that he had pushed a bit too far this time. He gave into resignation for the time being.

"Well…this test will decide whether you qualify as a pharmacist, no?"

"Yes," answered Tezuka calmly, taking another slow sip from his steaming mug.

Fuji smiled. "I'm sure you'll do brilliantly," he said encouragingly.

This was a diversionary tactic—he needed to refocus Tezuka's attention on something else before he dare go back to his original topic of discussion. When dealing with the withdrawn man, Fuji found himself wielding his skills in subtlety and persuasion to the highest degree. There was no other way to get an answer from Tezuka within that hour if he did not do so.

"Maybe," murmured Tezuka.

"Absolutely."

A pause, but this time Fuji knew that Tezuka was taking his words to heart. He smiled genuinely this time.

"What made you go into pharmaceuticals anyway?" he inquired.

"It caught my attention."

_It certainly did, _thought Fuji to himself amusedly. Tezuka was hardly seen in the past few years since he entered the field not studying for some exam or another. He was passionate about it—this much anyone could see—though some still questioned the drastic change in interests. And then there were others that were downright devastated by his switch in careers—most being foreign agents and scouts that were hoping to acquire Tezuka's talent in tennis. But then they had managed to get Ryoma in the end. It was a fair tradeoff in Fuji's opinion. At least the two were happy.

"Oishi saw Atobe the other day," ventured Fuji again.

At this Tezuka arched his eyebrow vaguely.

"He's going into entrepreneurship—wants to run his own company."

"He would be good at that."

"Most certainly," agreed Fuji with a chuckle.

Atobe Keigo had gone professional at a young age. He toured the world, creating a name for himself before facing off against Ryoma finally at Wimbledon. There he played his most spectacular game in his entire career, though he eventually lost and then decided to return to Japan after announcing his formal retirement. There was no bitterness in this action—he simply said he had played enough tennis to satisfy him for the rest of his life and was now ready to start on his other goals. And apparently, he had.

That had been a year ago. And during that time, business was not the only thing that caught Atobe's attention. Fuji narrowed his eyes at Tezuka, who had begun to read a small book he had extracted out of his pocket.

"Tezuka…you've spoken to Atobe haven't you?" he asked quietly.

The dark-eyed man glanced at Fuji. "A few times," he replied nonchalantly.

"What did you talk about?"

"He was just inviting me to several gatherings—nothing of any importance."

Fuji stared at Tezuka silently for a moment before smiling. "You know there's at least one other person that shares Echizen's interest in you," he pointed out brightly.

Tezuka's puzzled expression made Fuji feel slightly sympathetic towards him.

"What?"

"Well, it does prove to be quite the problem," commented Fuji offhandedly.

Everyone had known of Atobe's plans for Tezuka since he came back. He had made it blatantly obvious—as was his usual style. Of course Tezuka himself had remained completely oblivious to his forward actions. It had been amusing for a while to watch as Atobe would walk away with a disappointed air about him whenever Tezuka politely refused his offers without even knowing his true purpose.

But Fuji was sure now that Atobe would probably be redoubling his efforts now that Ryoma was on the scene. News of his confession had spread around quickly like wildfire and Fuji was sure that the glorious Atobe would be mortified once he heard. Fuji grew worried over the possibility of both Atobe and Ryoma fighting for Tezuka. It had been all right when it was simply Atobe—the man was much more covert about his feelings when going after Tezuka, which made him appear almost cautious of frightening him away. But Ryoma had proved to be just the opposite, which was somewhat ironic considering Atobe was the more flamboyant of the two whereas Ryoma was almost as stoical as Tezuka. With the two now competing over him, Fuji wondered how the latter would be able to handle it. Relationships were virtually untouched upon in Tezuka's dictionary.

"What will you do about it?" queried Fuji, his expression serious.

Tezuka blinked slowly, that nonplussed expression still sprawled over his face as he tried to fathom what Fuji was speaking about.

"Just follow your heart. I think that's about it," concluded Fuji mysteriously before standing up slowly. He buttoned up his coat and gave a cheery wave at Tezuka as he set down some money on the table for his order. "I'll see you later then. Good luck on your exam."

And without any further words the former tennis prodigy left the café. Tezuka stared at his wake in obvious surprise before finishing up his drink. He then paid the waitress before journeying outside. The time he spent with Fuji always entailed confusion and strange words. Tezuka had grown more adapt in the years to be able to read his friend's cryptic messages, but today was a completely other story. He had no clue as to what Fuji meant with his words—or why Atobe kept coming up in their conversation. Tezuka frowned slightly as he walked down the streets. Any further perception of how cold it was eluded him as his mind was focused entirely on Fuji's departing words to him.

"My, my, Tezuka…if you keep frowning like that you'll scare off all the children."

Tezuka froze at that all too familiar drawl and looked up slowly. Standing a few feet away from him, with his usual smirk in place, Atobe appeared to have been pleasantly surprised by this unpredicted meeting.

It struck Tezuka as ironic that he would encounter the one person that Fuji had been so engaged on talking about during their time at the café. "Atobe," he greeted flatly.

The other man walked up to him. "Do you have anything planned?" he inquired slowly.

"No."

"Good."

Lying was never one of Tezuka's strong points—though the moment Atobe shot him that wicked grin he almost wished it was. As he was guided away by the former Hyotei captain, Tezuka thought about Fuji once again. The full comprehension of those words hit him completely now. _Well, it does prove to be quite the problem._ Tezuka couldn't agree any more to that.

* * *

TBC


	4. Rematch

**

* * *

**

**Hourglasses**

**Chapter III**

* * *

A day with Atobe Keigo was an interesting one. This much Tezuka could attest to. The man was extravagant, flamboyant, and did everything with an extra flair. He was surprisingly calm and normal, however, despite the luxuriousness of his actions. Tezuka had never spent an entire day being driven around the town in a limo, being waited on hand and foot like some kind of royal subject. Atobe had been an amazingly good sport about it, and had not teased him as was expected. In fact, if Tezuka had to be honest, their time together was not altogether unpleasant.

This opinion and lack of any protesting to Atobe's advances was probably what made the latter move in swiftly on him at the end of their day to snatch a surreptitious kiss when he was looking the other way. Tezuka had been stunned—too stunned in fact to properly react when Atobe pulled away with a saucy wink before strolling away swaggeringly. Afterwards Tezuka had meandered around his house for a while, pretending to study with his textbook in hand, but really wondering what in the world had just transpired between him and Atobe.

"Kunimitsu! Syusuke's on the phone."

Tezuka took the phone in the kitchen. It was after dinner and all other occupants of the house were going about with their own activities, leaving him with the freedom of being alone as he took a seat by the empty table. He looked out the garden as he picked up the receiver from its cradle.

"Hello," he greeted mildly. He heard a distant click in the background that signified his mother's disconnection of the other phone.

"You had an interesting day," stated Fuji as a matter-of-factly.

"What?"

Tezuka blinked. There had been enough surprises in this day already. He wasn't sure if he was ready to handle Fuji's remarks entirely.

A laugh was sounded on the other end. "You know Inui. When he spotted you and Atobe together, he immediately called everyone else," he explained.

Tezuka narrowed his eyes. "Did you do anything else?" he inquired.

"Oh, don't worry, Tezuka. We aren't in junior high anymore. We've all outgrown those spying tendencies—though I'm not too sure I can fully back up Eiji with that."

Silence.

"So…how did it go?"

"Fuji," warned Tezuka.

"As a friend, Tezuka, I am obligated to know. I'm just worried about you, that's all."

There was something all too innocent about the way Fuji was speaking. Tezuka recognized that tone of voice, and knew not to believe Fuji completely. But the latter was speaking the truth—no matter how tainted it might have been with ulterior motives. However, Fuji had never teased Tezuka about relationships, and was probably the most reliable one out of his friends to go to for advice besides Oishi. The dark-haired man gave a sigh.

"It wasn't bad," he admitted.

"Oh? Interesting," remarked Fuji, allowing a glimmer of his surprise to show through.

Tezuka stared out the glass door leading to his backyard to see the full moon hanging in the midnight blue sky in all its glory. "He's changed somewhat. He's still arrogant and overbearing, but he's learned something of subtlety. It was strange to experience that firsthand," he said.

"Hmm…a character study made by Tezuka Kunimitsu—now that certainly is rare."

"Fuji."

The other man chuckled. "I don't mean it as an insult, Tezuka. It's just not common for you to comment on people's behavior. Sometimes even I forget that you do perceive things," he replied.

Tezuka frowned slightly. "That was a bit harsh," he pointed out dryly.

Another laugh. Tezuka wondered faintly to himself how he managed to acquire such a friend like Fuji.

"I do in a way envy you, Tezuka."

This statement surprised him. To Tezuka there was nothing appealing about his situation. He felt like a caged animal on display while Atobe and Ryoma played the two bidders competing for ownership. It was somewhat stifling and discomforting.

"Why?" he asked.

"Well…at least you know for a fact that you have two very good candidates fighting for you. It is flattering no matter what you may think now."

"I feel too suffocated right now to be thinking of flattery," remarked Tezuka.

"Ah, but that's because it's only the beginning. Give it some time and I'm sure your opinion will change. But the real question is…which one will you pick?"

Tezuka didn't need to even think of his answer. "I don't have time for romance, Fuji," he stated resolutely.

"Really, Tezuka. Love isn't something you can just predict or deny. _If_ and _when_ it hits you, all your reasons will go flying out the window. And it's not like Atobe and Echizen will really prevent you from doing anything. I think they might actually help."

This was Fuji logic speaking now. And Fuji logic was something that Tezuka was not in the mood for.

"I have to study, Fuji."

"Well…all right. Just remember, though, you can't go through life without experiencing the thrill of love at least once."

And with that enigmatic message, Fuji hung up with a click. Tezuka stared at his phone before cradling it silently and walking back to his room for some meditation.

* * *

"How about a match?"

It was with some surprise that the next afternoon Tezuka opened his door to find Ryoma waiting for him with his tennis equipment in his old Seigaku case.

"I—"

"Oh, Kunimitsu! Who's this?"

Tezuka's mother had burst in the scene with a warm smile directed at Ryoma. She then looked at her son. "Is this your friend?" she inquired.

"Yes," replied Tezuka with some difficulty as he watched his mother again smile and proceed in guiding Ryoma into the house.

"Well, you mustn't leave him standing at the doorway, Kunimitsu," his mother admonished lightly before looking at Ryoma. "And it's so rare that a new face comes by for a visit! What's your name?"

Ryoma smirked lightly in Tezuka's direction before bowing respectfully at his mother. "Echizen Ryoma—pleased to meet you," he greeted.

Tezuka's mother looked at Ryoma with some surprise. "Echizen…Ryoma? Didn't you used to be on Seigaku's team?" she asked curiously.

Ryoma nodded. Suddenly the older woman clapped her hands and looked at Tezuka.

"Were you about to go out, Kunimitsu? I'm so sorry."

Tezuka shook his head. "No, I—" he began.

"We were thinking of heading to the courts," cut in Ryoma politely with a smile.

"Is that so? Well, it's good for you to get some exercise into your schedule, Kunimitsu. You've been doing so much studying. And it's been a while since you've played tennis, no?"

Tezuka remained silent, but was shooting a dangerous look in Ryoma's way as the latter chuckled at his mother's words. Then Ryoma glanced at Tezuka and smiled knowingly.

"Fuji told me about how much you were pushing yourself. He suggested you take a break," he said with mock concern. Only Tezuka could read through the younger man's tone. His mother, however, was delighted.

"Oh, Kunimitsu, you have such a caring friends. You _should_ go out and relax a bit. I'll go get your equipment!"

And with that Tezuka's mother shuffled up the stairs, leaving Tezuka alone with a smug Ryoma. After a few moments, the older man gave a sigh and looked at Ryoma with some exasperation written in his usually unreadable face.

"You didn't need to do that," he remarked.

Ryoma shrugged. "You would have continued studying if I hadn't. Besides, from what I've heard you've been studying _too_ much. Keep that up and you won't be able to remember anything for your exam," he pointed out.

Tezuka narrowed his eyes. "Fuji suggested this didn't he?" he queried.

An amused smile spread over Ryoma's face. "I did mention him before, no?" he retorted.

It seemed as if Fuji had gained a new apprentice. And now Tezuka would have to endure both of their scheming minds. He regarded the amber-eyed man in front of him warily. Before he could say anything more, however, his mother returned with his tennis case. She handed it over to Tezuka along with his coat while she guided both him and Ryoma out the door.

"Now have fun you two!" she chirped brightly before closing the door on them.

Ryoma stared at the closed entranceway and shot a sidelong glance at Tezuka. "Although I didn't expect your mother to be in on the conspiracy as well," he added dryly.

Tezuka closed his eyes. "She and the rest of my family think I've been pushing myself too hard," he said quietly.

Suddenly Tezuka felt a pressure on his shoulders and he looked over to see Ryoma's arm draped over him lazily. The latter was eyeing him darkly. "One game, Kunimitsu," he all but purred into Tezuka's ear.

The older man found himself extremely disturbed by the closeness between them and began walking ahead briskly without a word. Ryoma allowed his arm to drop and watched Tezuka with a faint smile.

"I hope you've been practicing. It'll be boring if I beat you _too_ easily," he called out as he caught up to Tezuka. He lingered behind him and observed the man's shoulders tense noticeably.

Ryoma finally walked up to Tezuka's side and peaked over at him curiously. "You seem to be in a rush," he commented idly.

"The sooner we get this over with the sooner I can get back," came the tight response.

A miffed expression came over Ryoma's face before he shook his head.

"And people tell me I have a one-tracked mind."

He then stopped at the end of the block and Tezuka paused briefly to gaze at him in confusion. Ryoma gestured to his right.

"It's winter, Tezuka. There's no way we're playing in the public courts," he explained before leading the way. "We're going to my house. We recently enclosed the court."

For a moment Tezuka stared at the man incredulously as he grasped onto what he said. He had no quarrels with going to the public courts, but to actually enter Ryoma's house—that usually entailed introductions with his family. And Tezuka was not much of talker in front of strangers, though he was nonetheless very polite and proper. But from what he had heard about Ryoma's family, they were not very orthodox—particularly the father. Tezuka frowned slightly.

"Your family won't mind?" he inquired.

Ryoma gave a brief laugh. "Mind? I told them I would be bringing over a friend. That idiot dad of mine even wants to play you," he replied amusedly. He then looked at Tezuka teasingly. "You're not nervous are you, _Buchou_?"

The man's attitude had become more playful as of late. No doubt it was from Fuji's influence. Tezuka steeled his expression and chose not to respond. He would have to speak with the former prodigy later about this new development.

"Don't worry. Only my dad's insane. My mom and cousin are normal."

Tezuka looked at Ryoma with some amazement. It seemed highly disrespectful for the latter to be referring to his family so vulgarly. But that was one major difference between them. Tezuka had been brought up with highly traditional values and morals. Ryoma was born and raised in the bustling city of New York, and his values and methods were not what one could call _traditional_. If Tezuka were to be labeled as the conservative, then Ryoma would doubtlessly be the radical.

_It's interesting to note, isn't it? Whenever Echizen makes his appearance, you can be sure of a lot of interesting events to ensue. He's a catalyst for action. _

Fuji's words from not too long ago came echoing back into Tezuka's brain. And he was right. When Ryoma first came to Seigaku, he brought along a whirlwind of revolutions. And now he was back again, though this time the action had nothing to do with tennis. It had to do with Tezuka. And the latter had never been so alarmed in his entire life. With both Atobe and Ryoma vying for his attention now, it was hard to think of how life had been before Ryoma came back to Japan. It was quieter, Tezuka remembered, and less stressful. He had a lot more time to focus on his career. Now Ryoma was threatening to be the downfall of Tezuka's steady lifestyle. Flipping the world upside down—that was the perfect way to describe the younger man's presence since he came back.

"I'm back, Kaasan."

Tezuka blinked and he looked up to see Ryoma's home in sight. At the front porch was an older woman sweeping the floor. She smiled and waved at them.

"So this Tezuka Kunimitsu," she greeted warmly. "I'm this rascal's mother. You can just call me Rinko. So I heard Nanjirou wants to play you, hm?"

"Y-yes," stuttered Tezuka.

Rinko smiled. "Don't worry. Nanjirou's an old pervert, but he won't do anything to you," she said reassuringly.

"Oh."

It was all Tezuka could say to her bluntness. They were decidedly different from his family. He didn't know how to act around them. Usually older people fawned over him because he was so polite and respectful. But Ryoma's family was the type to want his friends to be more outspoken and friendly. No wonder they had loved Momoshiro.

"Come on. I'd like to get our match in before my idiot dad finds out you're here," directed Ryoma as he led Tezuka to the back of the house by the elbow.

When they turned the corner, however, they were greeted by a certain obstacle in the shape of Nanjirou sleeping on the porch with Karupin resting on his head. As soon as Ryoma showed up, the cat woke up and greeted his master with a friendly rub around his ankles. Tezuka watched as an uncustomary gentleness filled Ryoma's face as he picked up the cat.

"Always waiting around for me, eh?" he murmured to Karupin as he petted his fur. The cat purred in response. Ryoma smiled and looked at Tezuka. "Looks like our way is blocked."

"Oi, shounen. I don't like how you talk about me like I'm some kind of object."

Tezuka looked down at the floor and saw Nanjirou sit up and stretch with a loud yawn. "That was a _good_ nap, though!" he exclaimed before suddenly eyeing Tezuka. "Oh, it's you. I knew that name sounded familiar. What was it again? Tetsu? Tatsuha?"

"_Tezuka Kunimitsu._ And if you want to play him you better do it now, Oyaji."

Nanjirou gave a slow nod. "Ah, that was it," he murmured with a smirk before standing up. "All right, kid. Let's see what you're made of."

He then placed a hand in his robe and walked off, humming a tune to himself. Tezuka looked at Ryoma. "He really does want to play me?" he asked.

The golden-eyed man smiled and dropped Karupin, who landed on the floor gracefully beside his master. "Of course. Don't be soft on him either. He's old, but he's still good enough to beat most experienced players," he replied.

They walked until they reached a closed dome out in the backyard. The dome was made of glass and resembled an enlarged greenhouse except inside there were no plants—simply a large court with a net in the middle. On the side were some weightlifting machines. Ryoma guided Tezuka into the enclosed area and they were instantly hit by a rush of heat. Tezuka took of his coat and hung it up on the side gratefully while Ryoma took a seat on the floor. Nanjirou was already standing in the opposite court, handling a racket slowly.

"Come on, kid. I don't have all day you know," he drawled.

Tezuka unzipped his case and took out his racket, the old feeling of adrenaline and excitement flooding his system. He looked at Ryoma. "Why does he want to play me?" he asked.

Ryoma shrugged and gestured to the court. "Better not keep him waiting," he replied enigmatically.

Tezuka narrowed his eyes but walked up to the court obediently. Nanjirou grinned and took a ball out from his pocket.

"So let's see what type of friends shounen keeps beside him," he commented before serving.

A few minutes into the game found both Tezuka and Nanjirou running around the court in a vicious cycle. For this game Tezuka had forsaken his usual stoic attitude and adapted a more open expression. Glimpses of the faintest smile could be seen on his face as he returned shot after shot. The two were evenly matched and Tezuka was fairly impressed. Nanjirou certainly wasn't one to be put down easily. And his play style was very similar to his own—except smoother and less robotic, as Inui had once criticized Tezuka of. This was the style of a finely tuned instrument—the older the better.

"You're not bad, kid! Certainly more fun to play with than that brat of mine," commented Nanjirou as Tezuka scored a point.

Tezuka only nodded in thanks.

Nanjirou smirked and pointed accusingly in Ryoma's direction. "He doesn't even try to beat me anymore—no respect, honestly," he said.

Tezuka looked over at Ryoma, who was merely watching them with a half smile. Nanjirou placed his hands on his hips exasperatingly.

"Oi, shounen! When I'm through with him, it's you next!"

"Sorry, Oyaji. I have a score to settle with Kunimitsu first."

Nanjirou laughed. "Is that so? In that case, we better end our match here. You're going to need your energy for that sprite over there, kid," he said to Tezuka. "We can finish this off later. But that brat's looking irritated now. I do feel sorry for you!"

His last words were said sadistically and with a loud laugh to go along with it as well. Tezuka was feeling edgier by the second. Nanjirou walked over to Ryoma and tapped his son's head with his racket lightly while saying something to him. Tezuka attempted to listen, but the two were too far away from him. All he could observe was Ryoma's widening smirk and Nanjirou's impish grin. It was strange to witness their relationship. Tezuka had always assumed Ryoma never thought much about his father considering all the derogatory comments he made about the older man—but it was obvious to anyone watching them now that they were closer than they let on. And Tezuka could see where Ryoma had inherited his wicked attitude.

As the younger man walked up to him, Nanjirou leaned back against the wall of the dome and lit up a cigarette.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said as he walked to the opposite court.

Tezuka shook his head. "What were you talking about?" he questioned.

Ryoma's face was hidden from his view, but Tezuka could detect something from him that made him feel very uneasy.

"Your serve, Kunimitsu."

The older man narrowed his eyes. He was not accustomed to having his questions ignored, but such was life. He was no longer Ryoma's captain and thus, the latter could choose whether or not he wanted to answer. Tezuka breathed in deeply to ease the tension building up his mind. It had been a while since he had played Ryoma—and the last time they had played he had inevitably won. Tezuka doubted the same would happen this time round, though. He played frequently, but Ryoma was a newly retired pro. There was a certain gap between their skills that Tezuka could both feel and see. It was in the languid way Ryoma moved, the calm and predatory approach he made on the court, the silent and proud nature in his stance—it was enough to tell Tezuka that he was in for a challenge well beyond his comprehension.

He served with all his might and watched as Ryoma returned it effortlessly, his motions clean and unyielding. It was only after they both got in a good number of hits that Tezuka realized something.

Ryoma was playing him with his right hand.

That was when he knew this game was already over—and the smirk that Ryoma shot him from underneath his cap was unquestionably provocative.

"This game won't end like all the others did, _Buchou_."

Tezuka narrowed his eyes and the competitive spirit that was buried deep within him rose with renewed vigor. "Perhaps," he replied.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. That was the only thing that went through his mind the past few days. And it was time for something absolute to happen.

* * *

TBC

And of course, we knew that Ryoma and Tezuka would have to play against each other sooner or later.


	5. Decisions

**

* * *

**

**Hourglasses**

**Chapter IV**

* * *

Tezuka had endured an hour of taunts and torture from one arrogant, ex-pro tennis player. He had ran, he had served, he had volleyed, and now he was exhausted whereas Ryoma looked as if he was ready for a few hundred more rounds. And the incorrigible young man still maintained his game with his right hand. Tezuka grew slightly annoyed at this fact.

"Five games to three—have you really been practicing, Kunimitsu?"

The older man narrowed his gaze slightly. There were few that were courageous enough to tease him and Ryoma had just landed himself on that very limited list which originally carried only Fuji. Only with Ryoma the teasing was far more blatant and thus, more ingratiating on Tezuka's nerves.

Ryoma served elegantly and Tezuka found himself too distracted to properly react. One point to Echizen, his mind automatically calculated. He knew he was going to lose, but that did not mean he would let Ryoma go so easily.

"So how's the pharmaceutical life going for you?"

"You know?"

"Of course."

Tezuka hid a smile. "Fine," he replied.

Ryoma tilted his head up to look at him in the eye. "It's very you," he commented before serving.

Instinct took over and found Tezuka hitting the ball back with just as much force as Ryoma put into it. The latter smiled as he reciprocated the challenge with a hard slice on the ball. Tezuka watched slowly as it came towards him before adjusting his position slightly to meet the ball. Another hard round had begun.

"But what else are you going to do? What about your social life?"

Tezuka arched an eyebrow. "What about yours?" he shot back.

Ryoma smirked as he launched his infamous Drive A straight into the other's face. Tezuka had barely dodged out of reflex as Ryoma took the point. "Mine? Didn't I establish that a few days ago?" he inquired smartly, gently tapping his racket against his shoulder. "You are my social life."

An uncanny feeling of discomfort swept through Tezuka's system, yet at the same time he found himself quite flattered if not baffled. "You can't possibly use all your time on me," he stated as a matter-of-factly.

"No? You'd be surprised at how one-tracked my mind can be. Oyaji says so all the time, though I choose to ignore him."

Ryoma gave a slight smile. "It's match point," he said.

The ball swept past Tezuka in a flash. Ryoma had finally used his left hand—and finished off the game with a Twist Serve nonetheless. Tezuka had forgotten the impact of that serve, and Ryoma had refined and polished the move to its greatest potential. He was not disappointed with the game. In fact he felt a distinct sense of pride in knowing that he was one of the few that helped guide Ryoma to his current level of achievement.

"Are you through with tennis entirely?" he found himself asking suddenly.

Ryoma watched him for a moment. "I told you before. Tennis isn't living," he replied laconically. He took off his cap and fanned himself for several moments. "And I'm through with it. I'll do it for fun still—maybe compete once in a while—but I'm looking for something else to do now. I went, I conquered, and now I'm moving on."

"To what?"

A strange glint entered Ryoma's eyes. "Maybe another sport," he answered.

Tezuka's curiosity grew despite himself. "Another sport?" he repeated.

"Like surfing."

"_Surfing_?"

He had not meant to sound so incredulous, but Tezuka had been unable to hide his astonishment. From tennis to surfing—Ryoma never did seem to follow any exact pattern. Inui had pointed that out once while they watched one of his games on television. In the beginning the boy could be expected to follow some sort of pattern, but as the years progressed he started becoming more and more unpredictable—both in his tennis style and choices. Now the only thing Tezuka could do was stare at him dumbfoundedly.

"See, shounen? I'm not the only one who thinks you're insane," quipped a new voice—Nanjirou.

Ryoma looked back at his approaching father. "Your opinion is irrelevant, Oyaji," he said dismissively.

Nanjirou smacked his son over the head. "No respect nowadays! Don't become too cocky now that you retired as the best," he chided.

"Why surfing?" asked Tezuka finally.

The amber-eyed man looked at him carefully. "I like it. I went to Hawaii a few times during my vacation over the years and I took up surfing as a hobby. I think I'd like to go into it competitively," he replied.

"You think you're ready to get off the ground? You've barely even begun to walk," stated Nanjirou calmly, crossing his arms.

Ryoma smiled slightly. "I want to take to the sky, Oyaji, but first I have to go through the waters," he said.

The father and son shared knowing glances and Tezuka could only watch them in slight confusion. It was obvious the two were referring to something beyond his knowing. Their secret language only proved to Tezuka that they were indeed closer than they appeared. It brought on a sense of warmth in him. Somehow, as dysfunctional as Ryoma's family was, they _worked_. They each understood one another and that was all that mattered. It made Tezuka realize sadly how distant he was to his family. He loved them dearly, but he could never achieve the type of relationship Ryoma had with his family. But they were still functional in their own subtle way.

"He wants to take over the world by going through each sport one at a time. What a crazy boy I've raised!"

Tezuka snapped out of his reverie to see Ryoma folding his arms stubbornly. "It's not funny, Oyaji," he retorted crossly.

Nanjirou laughed gaily and patted his hand on Tezuka's shoulder for support. "Ah, but I can't blame him! He inherited his craziness from me after all. We're both just big dreamers it seems. But unlike me, this shounen's got more guts and actually _will_ carry out his goals no matter how insane they are," he proclaimed loudly.

"Stupid Oyaji, you can't do anything," remarked Ryoma calmly.

"_Oi_, Ryoma, that's not very nice. Think you're so much better, huh?"

"I won't go into this again."

"_OI_!"

"You think I can do it, Kunimitsu?"

The question took Tezuka by surprise. Ryoma stared at him patiently. "If it's what you want… I see no reason why you can't," he replied finally.

That answer made Ryoma smile slightly before he took both his and Tezuka's rackets and abruptly threw it onto the cart beside the court. "Come on. Let's get out of here. You can pick up your stuff later," he declared resolutely before dragging Tezuka away.

"Hey, don't think you can escape that easily, shounen!"

Ryoma gave a careless wave behind his back. "Later, Oyaji!" he called back as he threw Tezuka's coat to him unceremoniously. "Hurry up," he ordered shortly.

"Where are we going?" Tezuka asked quietly before finding himself pushed out the doorway and back into the blistering cold.

The younger man smirked. "Don't trust me?"

Tezuka pursed his lips and remained silent. Ryoma smiled slightly and the two walked through the snowy streets. It was now late afternoon and nearing dinnertime. A faint grumbling sounded from his stomach as he remembered how hungry he was. Tezuka glanced at Ryoma and noticed that the younger man seemed oblivious to all save his one goal—a goal of which Tezuka still did not know as he was led down the various stores and restaurants that plagued their neighborhood. He barely even looked at them to avoid being tempted and opted for staring at the sky and, occasionally, Ryoma.

He had forgotten how curious his eyes were. That spectacular mixture of gold and green hues made Ryoma's eyes hard to ignore—especially when he had a knack for staring people down like a wild cat on the verge of pouncing its prey. It was those same eyes that made Tezuka feel slightly flustered when focused too long on his own. Normally, he would have endured it calmly—almost nonchalantly. But now that he knew of Ryoma's intentions for him…it became downright disturbing. He knew the younger man meant well, but Tezuka did not take to attention very well. Generally, the attention he received was of admiration and respect—this, he could tolerate almost to the point of indifference—but this sort of attention was suffocating—uncomfortable—foreign.

After all, he could not very well ignore Ryoma when the man was standing right beside him. And he was a friend—which made it even more uncomfortable.

"I feel like having some sushi."

Glancing upwards at the store they stopped before, Tezuka's eyes widened slightly. "Kawamura's…? You took us here?" he asked with some wonder. He was becoming more and more distracted in the presence of Ryoma nowadays. This was decidedly not a good thing.

Ryoma tilted his head to the side. "Is that bad?" he replied, his tone genuine as he looked at Tezuka for approval.

Finding himself shaking his head, Tezuka let it slip. "No, it's all right. Let's go."

Where was this strange consideration coming from? Tezuka frowned slightly to himself as they entered the warm restaurant. It was not overly crowded since it was still touching the evening, but there were plenty of patrons lurking about, laughing and eating. At once Tezuka spotted Kawamura and the latter looked briefly surprised before greeting them with a cheerful grin.

"Tezuka, Echizen! This is a surprise!"

Tezuka nodded slightly while Ryoma looked around the crowded floor. "Got any room?" he inquired bluntly.

Kawamura chuckled before nodding. "Yeah, come on over! It's on the house," he said as he began directing them to a faintly quiet corner.

Ryoma shook his head as they sat down by the low table. "No, we're paying—or rather, _I'm_ paying. But thanks for the offer, Taka-san," he replied, addressing Kawamura in his more affectionate nickname. This surprised Tezuka somewhat since he knew the two never really spoke that much.

But by the way Kawamura slugged Ryoma's arm playfully and the ease in which they spoke to each other in—Tezuka thought maybe he was incorrect on the matter. When the other man finally left after taking their orders—which they did not even have to give since Kawamura knew their tastes—they resumed in silence. Tezuka folded his hands in his lap and regarded Ryoma carefully. The latter stared off to the side with his chin resting in his hand with a distinctly bored expression on his face.

"You think I'm insane?"

Blinking, Tezuka stared at Ryoma for a moment. "About?"

Amber eyes flew to him. "The surfing," he said tonelessly.

"I already told you my opinions."

Ryoma gave a half smile. "But you think it's surprising, no?" he challenged.

Tezuka was never one to lie. "Yes."

"Why?"

"It's a drastic change."

"But it's not impossible."

"I never said it wasn't."

It was remarkably simple the way they slipped back into these one-sentenced conversations. And for a few seconds Tezuka was reminded of their junior high years where the same sort of debates went on between them. Some things never changed it seemed. That was a reassuring thought, though.

Ryoma folded his arms and watched Tezuka for a while before their meals suddenly appeared in front of them on elaborately decorated trays. The sushi looked delectable and utterly picturesque while sitting innocently on its platters. Kawamura winked at them both before leaving them alone again.

They began to eat silently. Tezuka lapsed into his normal routine and treasured the brief peace he had while eating his meal. There was a slight tension in the air—he could feel it—but he could not comprehend it. He did not understand Ryoma's reason for bringing up this certain topic as well. He was surprised at the younger man's choice for career, but there was nothing he could do about it. And he did _not_ want to do anything about it. Ryoma lived his own life. It was respectable in a way, too—the way he could so suddenly turn around and do something drastic when most people would be grateful for a stable lifestyle. That was what Tezuka wanted. He had no desire for any outrageousness.

Then it dawned on him. Perhaps this was why Fuji had been so insistent on him in dealing with Atobe and Ryoma. If there was any outrageousness to be had, these two were it.

"Hey, Kunimitsu…do you ever fear waking up one day and realizing with horror that you never did anything worthwhile in your life?"

Tezuka paused in his eating before eyeing Ryoma slowly. The golden-eyed man, it seemed, had a specialty when it came to reading people's thoughts. "No, I can't say I have," he answered evenly.

Ryoma narrowed his eyes slightly. "Why did you choose to study pharmaceuticals? I thought you would become a pro as well," he asked.

"I changed my mind."

This was something Tezuka would rather not be spoken about. Making that decision had been a difficult one—and sometimes, _sometimes_ he would wonder if it had been the right one to make. But fortunately those incidents happened rarely and lasted for the briefest of seconds. He politely wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin before looking at Ryoma again, who was still staring intently at him.

"Why do I not believe you?"

"It's up to you to believe me or not. I won't try to convince you."

Ryoma calmly put down his chopsticks and stared at Tezuka. "What happened four years ago?" he suddenly asked.

Tezuka froze. He looked into his cup of tea and watched his own reflection as it gazed back tauntingly at him. It took him a few seconds to regain his normal composure as he took a sip from the drink before eyeing Ryoma severely. "What makes you ask?" he shot back.

"I _know_. I saw it in your eyes at our match. You still have the love of tennis—and the passion. Why did you give it up for pharmaceuticals? I said before that it suited you but now…I think I'll have to correct that mistake. It's _not_ you. So what happened four years ago? Fuji told me that was when you changed career plans."

Fuji. Tezuka should have known. And even then he could not bring himself to begrudge the other man. He had not mentioned anything else other than that apparently—but Ryoma was smart enough to figure it out for himself. Four years ago… That much time had passed already, and yet to Tezuka, he felt like he was still living that moment—that moment of despair and broken dreams. In a single instant his life had changed. And he found himself wondering why he had devoted so much time in the first place to such a dangerous and unsteady goal.

"Kunimitsu."

Tezuka narrowed his eyes. "I made a hard decision, Echizen. That was it," he said coldly.

Ryoma blinked several times before leaning back slowly. _Echizen_. The fact that Tezuka had addressed him so formally was proof that he had elicited some anger in him. He sighed inwardly to himself. Well, Fuji had given him proper warning on bringing up this subject with him. Ryoma just never was one to take warnings very seriously. But it seemed he had foolishly dove into this situation too roughly.

"Do you not like me?"

Now surprise entered Tezuka's eyes. "What?"

Ryoma shifted his arms until the elbows were resting on the table, head held up by his hands. "You are not interested in me at all. Would you prefer Keigo?" he said, his tone so inexplicably blasé that Tezuka was taken aback.

"I…"

The first thing that registered in Tezuka's head was that Ryoma had used Atobe's first name—hinting at a more informal relationship between the two. But then again, they had been pros at the same time and competed against each other at Wimbledon. They had probably moved past the insults and teasing they exchanged as younger adolescents.

But how to answer Ryoma's question? Tezuka was stuck in a corner.

"I'm not…interested in either of you."

When said out loud, Tezuka realized how bratty it made him sound. He cringed inwardly as Ryoma's expression became even more impassive as he arched a single eyebrow.

"Oh? Are you quite sure about that, Kunimitsu? Somehow I think you're lying."

Tezuka was suddenly hit by a strong wave of annoyance. Nobody had ever spoken to him so bluntly, so…insolently. Even Fuji knew where to stop before Tezuka lost his patience. And now Ryoma was coming very close to the breaking point. Tezuka was torn between irritation and slight awe at the younger man's tenacity.

"Ryoma…just let it drop," he said slowly.

It was brought them back to their days at Seigaku when the first or second years were messing around and Tezuka would order them to desist immediately. There was no fighting back that tone of authority. And even now, a decade later, Ryoma still could not bring himself to challenge this famed notion. Tezuka still had absolute control over every situation. Ryoma did not like it—and the beginnings of a plan on how to break that control was taking up shape in his mind.

"You can't hide forever. You're not so efficient at masking your emotions as you think you are."

Tezuka allowed that one to pass him by. He had deserved the chaste remark after all. But he still could not help but shudder inwardly at the hard tone in Ryoma's voice. There was as innate fear within him when it came to disclosing himself to other people—even those such as his family and close friends. He trusted them, of course, but that did stop him from keeping to himself. There was something about baring your heart out to people that Tezuka found unappealing and had henceforth, never done. The fact that Ryoma could read him now so easily disconcerted him immensely.

"Kunimitsu…if you really don't want anything to do with me…then I'll leave."

Suddenly Tezuka shifted his attention back on Ryoma. The latter was staring at him calmly, patiently. "What do you mean?"

"I don't want you to force yourself. If you really have no interest in me I'll let you go. Maybe Keigo's more your type, I don't know. But I'll go back to the States—start on my next career," explained Ryoma before smiling slyly, "I only stayed here in Japan for so long because of you. But even I can see when my efforts are failing. I'll give up on you…_if_ you genuinely don't care for me at all other than as a friend."

Tezuka stared at him blankly as Ryoma stood up, placing some money on the table. "This is for the meal and the rest is tip. Tell Taka-san I had an appointment and give him my regards," he directed as he put on his coat. He began to walk away when he turned around halfway, a faint smile on his face. "I'll give you a week to decide. And yes, this is an ultimatum. Don't think I won't keep my word, Kunimitsu. 'Night."

And then he was gone.

* * *

TBC

Ah, yes, sorry for the delay. My computer is in a bit of a fritz right now. It's a miracle I even managed to get online. But I have been writing, I swear! I just haven't been able to use this stupid machine for a very loooong time. We need a new computer so badly. And I can't even upload my work at school because my teacher is a bit...well, let's just say he likes to keep us all preoccupied. So until my situation clears up, I won't be able to update for a while. Please be patient with me!

Oh, and yes, I hope you liked this chapter! xD The surfing idea came from a picture I saw of Ryoma on a surfboard. It's not impossible you know!


	6. Party

* * *

**Hourglasses**

**Chapter V**

* * *

"I'd say you two were pretty even. But then you pulled out that fast one. I didn't think you'd be so daring."

Ryoma glanced at the smiling brown-haired man standing across his bed. "What are you doing here, Fuji?" he asked automatically.

"Is this how you spend your days, Echizen? Just lie around with headphones clamped over your ears?"

"I can't hear you," the younger man retorted smartly.

Fuji's smile widened and he took a seat by Ryoma's desk. "Tezuka's under a lot of stress right now—and the situation you forced him into isn't really helping," he pointed out.

Ryoma opened one eye lazily. "He has to choose eventually. Time won't wait for him."

"That's a bit cold."

"Heh. Do you approve?"

"Naturally."

The two smiled at each other for a moment. Fuji then stood up and glanced around Ryoma's room, taking in the furnishings. On the walls were posters of quite a few American rock bands and the rest of the space was occupied by his bed and desk—which had been piled up with miscellaneous books, games, magazines, DVDs, CDs, and newspaper articles. A game console stood loyally by the television located to the bed's right and various other sports equipment littered the space by the closet. It looked, in short, like any typical teenage boy's bedroom. However, Ryoma was no longer a boy—and there was no sign whatsoever in the room that indicated to his worldwide status.

It was this quality of Ryoma's that endeared Fuji. Ryoma was arrogant and proud when it came to the court, but off it he strived for as little attention as possible.

"I wonder if he'll really end up choosing Atobe."

Amber eyes flashed dangerously. "Cut the joking. I might actually believe you," he said dryly.

Fuji gave a light chuckle. "But what do you plan on doing about him? He's becoming very persistent. He might actually win Tezuka over."

Ryoma took off his headphones and placed them tidily onto his crowded desk. "Keigo is as confused as he was when he was playing junior high tennis. He doesn't know what he wants," he replied calmly.

"You really think so?"

"I know. It's just infatuation with him. And that's why I won't lose."

Fuji folded his hands in his lap and sighed. "Well, I don't know… Tezuka can be quite oblivious to things when he wants to."

Ryoma smirked. "Why do you think I told him to decide then? I'm not that mean," he said.

"We should get together with the others. We haven't had a formal party to honor your return yet."

"Now? I might just be leaving again in a week."

Fuji shook his head slowly. "Echizen…what did I tell you about patience?"

"I never listen to you when you give advice. You know that."

"How cruel. People say I give good advice, too."

"Maybe for _their_ problems. _You_ just make _mine_ worse."

An amused look was sprawled over Fuji's face. "Are you admitting to the fact that I'm annoying you?" he asked innocently.

Ryoma launched a dark stare on the older man. "_Why_ are you here, Fuji? I know you didn't just decide to drop by to check up on me," he accused.

"Now, now, I don't always need a reason to visit a friend do I?"

"Normally, no. But since it's you that's not possible."

_Touché_, thought Fuji. He shrugged. "About Atobe…I think there might be someone willing to help break him and Tezuka apart," he said.

Ryoma looked at him placidly. "That sounds very mean you know."

Fuji looked surprised for a moment before laughing. "No, no, it's not a _conspiracy_ or anything. It's just…well…a strange sort of love triangle. And with the addition of this new individual I guess it could be called a love square—or rectangle—whichever one you prefer," he explained.

"Who are you talking about?" queried Ryoma curiously.

The brown-haired man gave a knowing smile and shook his head. "Can't say… I haven't even approached him with the idea yet," he replied.

"How do you even know then?"

"I'm good at reading people's feelings."

"Right, right…" Ryoma stared up at his ceiling. "This is so tiring," he murmured. 

Fuji smiled sympathetically. "You were the one who wanted this."

"I wonder, though… People are complicated. If they were only like tennis, I would be certain—but they aren't. It's like a game of chance," Ryoma said quietly before adding darkly, "and I hate probability. That's Inui's forte, not mine."

The brown-haired man stared at Ryoma calmly. "You really care for Tezuka, huh?" he contemplated aloud.

Ryoma stood up and stretched his limbs thoroughly before picking up his tennis equipment. "Maybe. Care for a game?" he replied offhandedly.

Fuji grinned. "Of course."

They headed towards Ryoma's enclosed court. Fuji admired it openly in fascination. In all of Japan, this was probably the only one of its kind. There were few who could afford to have a court in their backyards—and even fewer that could afford to enclose it. But with Ryoma's salary for the past five years, anything was possible. Fuji walked over to the side to pick out a spare racket to his liking before warming up with a few sit-ups and pushups. Ryoma had taken to practicing alone by the side—hitting two balls simultaneously back and forth to the same spot on the wall. Fuji gave a small smile. _Frightening control…this should be good._ He laced up his sneakers and began heading to the court.

"Where's your father? I usually see him around here," he called out.

Ryoma entered the court quietly. "Probably reading more of his perverted magazines in the house," he replied. He shot Fuji a light smirk. "Want to do this the old-fashioned way or should I just let you serve first?"

Fuji chuckled lightly. "I like old-fashion," he said.

"Which?"

"Rough."

The racket fell with a light clatter to the ground. Rough. Fuji smiled as Ryoma headed back towards his end. "Make this good, Fuji. I want to get some sort of challenge."

"With that attitude, I can't imagine _how_ Tezuka might possibly choose someone else over you."

Ryoma smirked. "Very funny."

The game lasted for over twenty minutes. Fuji had missed this thrill. Of all the opponents he faced, he never grew tired of playing Ryoma. He was the only one Fuji could go all out on without hesitation. Mizuki, Kirihara—he had only played them seriously because they had dared to hurt people close to him. But with Ryoma he played seriously simply because the other man drew it out of him. You could not relax in his presence or give him a handicap. Ryoma was the type to detect those types of gestures well and twist them around to his own advantage. Fuji grinned as the younger man scored a point.

"You've done very well, Echizen. Watching you on television is nothing like playing you in person," he complimented cheerfully.

Ryoma arched an eyebrow. "Well, thank you very much," he replied dryly.

Fuji had only played recreational tennis after high school. His form had developed, but not nearly as drastically as Ryoma's. There were too many other things that caught his eye to pay so much attention to tennis—so Fuji abandoned it for a while. Many recruiters had been crushed when they found this out. But Fuji never had the intention of becoming a professional. He only played because it was fun. And it was _still_ fun. But there were only so many things he could juggle at once.

"Thirty-love. This can't be all you have, Fuji."

The former tennis prodigy smiled. _And he's still playing with his right. I can't imagine what a game with his left would be like. I'd probably be crushed in a love game. _"Your prowess amazes me, Echizen," he commented, grinning at the dark scowl that filled Ryoma's face.

"Please, that just reminded me too much of Keigo," the younger man said before suddenly switching to his left.

Fuji could only stand still and watch as the ball flew past his eye.

"Forty-love. Match point."

_Very scary, Echizen. _Fuji shrugged. "Aaah…it's a lost cause."

The game finished in a matter of a few seconds. Fuji had grown very wary of that left arm now. He always knew Ryoma had untapped potential—but this was something else altogether. No wonder the newspapers and critics had raved about him. He was truly divinely blessed. And Ryoma had demolished all of their hopes by retiring early. Fuji smiled at the irony.

"I'm hungry."

Fuji blinked. "Should we get something to eat then?" he suggested.

Ryoma changed his clothes swiftly. "Are you paying?" he asked airily.

"You know… I don't really have to do that anymore…"

Golden eyes flashed. "I know. I was only joking."

"Aah…"

The two headed out of the court bundled up from head to toe. It was late evening now and the air was brittle. Fuji tilted his head back to catch a snowflake on his nose. It was certainly beautiful in Tokyo around the time of year. And Christmas was dangerously around the corner. Fuji looked at Ryoma. He wondered if Tezuka would be able to make the right decision. It would be a shame for the amber-eyed man to leave before they had a chance to celebrate his birthday. Fuji shook his head. Most people would not have been so bold.

"What's this?"

"A new restaurant I wanted to try out."

"…Malaysian?"

"I heard it's quite good."

Ryoma rolled his eyes as they entered the warm restaurant. "It better be," he muttered darkly before finding his vision completely gone. "What…?"

"Come on, man. This ain't no joke. Get going!"

Suddenly Ryoma felt someone tie his hands behind his back and the powerful momentum of being pushed forward towards an unknown destination. He wondered to himself in the back of his head. _What are the chances we enter a restaurant that's in the middle of a heist? Very slim I would like to think._ Ryoma felt himself being forced into a chair.

"Are you okay, Fuji?"

"I'm—"

"Shut up! Both of you!"

Ryoma felt strangely odd. He supposed panic would usually consume a person right about now—and yet he felt utterly composed. Ryoma contemplated this for a while before the covering was lifted from his eyes. Blinded by the sudden light, he flinched painfully before seeing what was before him.

A long white table. Kikumaru snapping pictures of him like a wild man. Inui scribbling away into his notebook by the end of the table. Momoshiro grinning widely at him. Kawamura smiling bashfully. Fuji with his usual mask in place. Kaidou looking extremely displeased in his seat as he hissed. Oishi already at his side with an apologetic face. And Tezuka standing by the wall with his arms crossed—completely expressionless.

Ryoma felt mildly surprised.

"Man, Ochibi! You have no reaction whatsoever! Didn't you even feel a little scared?" whined Kikumaru.

"His eyes widened at point one millimeters. That indicates some surprise," calculated Inui.

Momoshiro laughed. "Yeah, Echizen, you were shocked, right?" he said happily as he chuffed his shoulder lightly.

"I'm so sorry, Echizen! But the rest of them insisted and this was really Fuji's idea so I couldn't stop it. I thought the whole getup might have been too dramatic, but as long as you're all right I guess it's okay, huh?" Oishi said hurriedly.

Ryoma stared at the man for a while and listened as Oishi's apologies went on profusely before finally shaking his head. "It's okay, Oishi. Really," he said, a small smile on his face.

_Snap!_ Ryoma blinked as Kikumaru cheered. "Yay, I got Ochibi smiling!"

The others eventually calmed down enough to take their places around the table. Ryoma smiled as Tezuka sat by his side, albeit it was a bit forced due to Momoshiro and Kikumaru's rather blatant intentions. The waiter came by after a few minutes to take their drinks and orders and Ryoma listened for a while to everyone's voices. He never would have admitted it to anyone, but he did miss them. He had grown under their care—and they were friends that he knew he could always look to for support. As their food began to arrive, Ryoma managed a small laugh when Inui picked up a sample of his meal to feed to Kaidou, who looked extremely embarrassed. The rest of the table laughed heartedly as Kaidou sputtered with his words whilst Inui waited patiently for him to take his food.

They had always been an odd pairing. No one was exactly sure of how deep their relationship ran except themselves. Even Fuji could make no certain assumptions. Inui and Kaidou were both very private individuals by nature and as far as the public eye could tell, they acted no differently from two best friends or brothers. But Ryoma had a feeling there was something more than that. It was in the way they acted around each other—naturally, no facades at all. They were free around one another. That was why they made such a great doubles pair in high school. But each held his own in singles, too. They were dependent on each other, but at the same time they never lost their own independence.

Ryoma smiled slightly. At least they could find some comfort from each other. He looked at the rest of the faces around him. Momoshiro had changed little. His temper had quieted in the past years, but the same fiery nature still existed within him. He had also taken to a new passion: cooking. Whereas Kawamura mastered the fine art of sushi making, Momoshiro had began his study of fine cuisine. He was hoping to start his own restaurant one day that served all types of food—not only Japanese.

"Eat up, Echizen! Your food will get cold if you don't!"

Oishi was once again playing the mother hen. Ryoma smiled. He hadn't changed at all. And neither had Kikumaru. Those two were as inseparable as ever—and that still carried over on the tennis court. Ryoma picked up his chopsticks and began eating his meal. He was truly happy for once. Facing the tennis world at such a young age had not been traumatizing for him—but leaving everyone behind had left an imprint on him. For the first time since he arrived in Japan, he felt truly home.

"The fun doesn't end here, though. We have other guests expecting to arrive soon," quipped Fuji suddenly.

And as if on cue, the door opened and in came Tachibana, Kamio, and Shinji. Behind them followed Yuuta, Mizuki, Yanagisawa, and Atsushi. Ryoma blinked. No wonder they had so much room around the table. But even with their newly arrived guests, there was still plenty of space to be had. He looked at Fuji and caught the older man's glittering eyes smile at him.

"Oh, looks like we came just on time! How are you doing, Echizen? It's nice to see you back," greeted Tachibana warmly.

"Fancy décor," commented Shinji distractedly.

Kamio's eyes flashed. "Oi, Echizen, _why_ did you retire so early?" he demanded fiercely.

Before he could reply, the door opened again. This time Sanada, Kirihara, and Yanagi entered. The former captain of Rikkaidai tilted his head in Ryoma's direction.

"Echizen," he said formally.

Kirihara eyed him mischievously. "Pro world too hard on you or what?"

"No one asked for your opinion," interjected Kikumaru in Ryoma's defense.

"No arguing, Akaya," chastised Yanagi calmly as the younger man was about to speak.

They took their seats around the table. Ryoma looked at Fuji incredulously.

"How many people did you invite?"

Fuji smiled conspiringly as he tilted his glass back and forth. "Who knows?" he replied coolly.

Ryoma glared at the older man. "You didn't…"

This time Fuji laughed. "Who knows?" he repeated lightly.

Oishi looked at Ryoma concernedly. "Is everything okay? You look pale, Echizen," he asked.

The golden-eyed man shook his head. "Everything's fine. Don't worry about it."

For a few minutes there was peace. Only the sounds of people catching up and eating filtered through Ryoma's ears. He allowed himself to relax for a short while. He knew what Fuji had planned. And the older man had the nerve to call _him_ daring? He gritted his teeth as he felt the thunderous pounding of a migraine on the side of his head. He had never been particularly comfortable around people—even around those he called his friends. But this situation was starting to drive him a little off the edge—especially if his suspicions proved right. Ryoma took a sip from his soda. He _had_ dove into this too quickly.

"Are you all right?"

Ryoma turned around to catch Tezuka's mildly apprehensive look. He blinked several times. He had forgotten the older man had even been sitting next to him. He gave a low snicker. "Fuji's a downright headache you can't ignore," he muttered.

"It took you that long to realize?"

A short laugh was issued from Ryoma. He eyed Tezuka down. "And I always thought the two of you got along so well," he remarked amusedly.

Tezuka smiled lightly.

"Well, now…it seems you've got the beginnings of a good party here."

Ryoma looked towards the doorway immediately. He smirked. "Late as usual, Keigo."

"_Fashionably_ late, Ryoma. There _is_ a difference."

"Smells good!" exclaimed Jirou blissfully as he looked over the array of food.

The entire former Hyotei team gathered around the table just then. Ryoma gestured to an empty chair across him. "Have a seat, your highness," he said mockingly.

Atobe narrowed his eyes, but that did not stop the smile from spreading over his face. He sat down where Ryoma had directed him and Kabaji followed obediently. He waited patiently as the waiter began taking down the others' orders and folded his hands.

"Aren't you going to look at the menu?" inquired Kawamura curiously.

"I already know what I want," replied Atobe pompously.

Ryoma hid a smile as he gestured to the others. "Can't go anywhere without your posse?"

"So how are _you_, Tezuka?"

Atobe grinned at the glare Ryoma threw at him. Tezuka took a sip from his tea calmly. "Fine, Atobe. And yourself?" he replied.

"Good, good. Could be better, though."

Ryoma sat back and watched as a conversation between the two unfolded. He glanced at Fuji. _That bastard,_ he thought with some grudging respect. Not only had he been manipulated masterfully into this situation, but Fuji had also brought along his foremost competition. Ryoma massaged his temples. Well, it was not the worst-case scenario—but it was close to it.

"_And with the addition of this new individual I guess it could be called a love square—or rectangle—whichever one you prefer."_

Casting an observing look over the table, Ryoma wondered to himself. Who could it be? Fuji never specified whether it was someone they knew—but he had a distinct feeling it was. He eyed down the former Hyotei team. If anything it had to be one of them. They were Atobe's closest companions and confidants. He crossed out Ootori and Shishido immediately. Those two had been a pair since the beginning of high school. Ryoma did not even take Kabaji into consideration. The latter was a loyal friend and follower—nothing more and nothing less. That left Jirou, Mukahi, Oshitari, and Hiyashi. Ryoma narrowed his eyes. This would not be easy.

Feeling himself being studied, Ryoma looked over to catch Fuji's knowing stare. The brown-haired man smiled and nodded slowly.

_So it is someone among these guys… Who, though? _Ryoma arched an eyebrow and watched as Fuji's grin widened. Then, unmistakably, he moved his hand towards the side of eye. Ryoma watched as the older man performed an undeniable pantomime of adjusting something invisible on his face—something like glasses. Ryoma blinked. _Oshitari?_ His mind had come up with the answer before he could even consider it. At once his gaze flew over to the blue-haired man's direction. He was talking calmly to Mukahi while at the same time making sure Jirou didn't choke on his food beside him.

Ryoma frowned.

Oshitari and Atobe? He contemplated the possibility. Most certainly, he did see those two together a lot during the time he was still living in Japan, but he never imagined this. Atobe was commanding, flamboyant, and extremely arrogant. Oshitari harbored that same arrogance, but he never flaunted it like Atobe—and he was much more tolerable than the latter. He was also more formidable in both his tall stature and calculative demeanor. Ryoma shook his head slightly. But the both of them were so stubborn. How would they ever work out?

"Ryoma? Are you all right?"

Again the amber-eyed man looked at Tezuka in surprise. He was being far too careless in actions tonight. "Yeah," he answered quickly. But when he saw that Tezuka's gaze did not dissipate on him so easily, he smiled. "Really." Twice the same person had asked him the same question in the last hour.

"You're not eating," Tezuka said softly.

Ryoma looked down at his half-eaten food. "Oh. Right," he said before quickly finishing the rest of his meal. Not eating was never a factor for him. No wonder Tezuka seemed so worried.

"On a diet, Ryoma?" came Atobe's smooth voice.

Once again the golden-eyed man froze. He looked at Atobe and then again at Oshitari for a split second. _Could such a couple exist without killing the other first? _"Hardly," he murmured.

"What was that?"

"Hardly!"

Atobe looked briefly surprised at the outburst before smiling silkily. "I see. No need to get so huffy."

Ryoma placed a hand to his temple and spotted Oshitari from the corner of his eye laugh at a joke Jirou made. The fact that someone who liked Atobe could act so indifferently disturbed him—especially since he knew that Oshitari knew who Atobe was _really_ after. How could he behave so normally then? Why wasn't he fighting back? Atobe was Ryoma's rival at this point, but that did not mean he wanted him to end up with the worst in the end—and he could not fully comprehend Oshitari's feelings yet. This may have been a competition over Tezuka—but Ryoma honestly did not want anyone to lose in this game. He gave a soft sigh. _This has suddenly gotten a lot more difficult._

* * *

TBC

Love square... Ha.


	7. My Friend, My Foe

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* * *

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**Hourglasses**

**Chapter VI**

* * *

Karupin had been staring at his master for over an hour now as he rummaged around his closet, throwing random miscellaneous things into a large duffel bag on the floor beside him. Ryoma grunted darkly as he extracted a pair of handcuffs from between an old pair of jeans.

"Stupid Oyaji," he muttered as he tossed them into the wastebasket. He then dumped the jeans they were hidden in along with them. After several more minutes of this repeated extraction and disposal, Ryoma plopped down onto the carpeted floor and allowed Karupin to jump into his arms happily. The cat purred blissfully as Ryoma ran his fingers through his silky fur. "How do I get myself into these situations, Karupin? I knew I shouldn't have told Fuji anything."

Yes, Ryoma decided that from now on he would keep his personal life a secret from the conniving prodigy. As if the impromptu welcome home bash wasn't enough, now Fuji had planned a ski trip for two days in the cool and refreshing regions of the countryside. But Ryoma supposed he shouldn't have been too annoyed. Most likely, with the extravagance of this trip, Fuji had it all structured out even before Ryoma informed him of his ultimatum to Tezuka. But now he was sure that the brown-haired man would be doing everything in his power to somehow get him and Tezuka alone for a majority of the trip.

Ryoma sighed wearily and picked up Karupin, looking at his friend directly in the eye. "Your master is in for some crazy mess," he stated dryly.

Karupin meowed loudly in agreement. The golden-eyed man smiled at the feline warmly.

"Ryoma! Telephone!"

"Who is it?" shouted back Ryoma as he resumed in cleaning out his overstuffed closet. He had really been putting off this task for far too long now—it was several years overdue of a good breather. He had forgotten how much junk he had stored back in junior high.

"Keigo!" replied Nanako.

Ryoma stopped his pace and stood up slowly. He took the portable from its stand and turned it on. "Keigo?" he said into the phone. He promptly heard a click as his cousin got off the line.

A low chuckle filled Ryoma's ear and he cringed. Yes, it was Atobe all right. "This is surprising," he continued, walking back to his closet and picking out a container filled with condoms.

What the devils had his father been stuffing his closet with these past five years he was in America? He shook his head but stored the box in the drawer below his bed. At least he had a better chance of using the condoms than the handcuffs.

"I heard you were leaving soon."

Ryoma snorted. "Man, word gets around quick in Japan, huh?" he replied.

"Well it depends on your resources, Ryoma. I happen to have very good ones."

Atobe still possessed that otherworldly ability to drive Ryoma over the edge with a few simple words it seemed. Ryoma held the phone between his shoulder and chin as he folded a sweater and tossed it into the duffel bag marked for donation.

"So what's your point, Keigo? Don't tell me you're calling to say you'll miss me," he retorted.

An indulgent laughter sounded on the other line. "I was just wondering why. You seem to be very close to reaching your goal after all. Why give up so quickly?" he said.

There was no disguising the smugness in Atobe's words. So he thought Ryoma was giving up? The younger man smirked to himself. Ah, he still had a lot to learn. But those lessons could be saved for later—after he showed Atobe exactly how to properly play the game and win. Until then, he would handle the sidelines.

"Well, I do have other interests, Keigo. And staying in Japan isn't exactly ideal in order for me to pursue them," he said.

There was a pause before Atobe finally responded. "Other interests?" he inquired, sounding faintly curious.

Ryoma grinned and tossed an old coat into the duffel bag. "Yeah. I'm through with tennis for now. And there are just so many other sports in the world for me to conquer," he replied airily.

"You're rather confident in your abilities," Atobe said, returning to his normal mocking tone.

"Kunimitsu seems to think I can do it," Ryoma pitched in, knowing how those words would affect Atobe. He bit back a laugh as a dramatic silence ensued.

Finally, Atobe cleared his throat. "Tezuka is always like that I'm afraid. He's much more idealistic than most would think. But then four years ago… Well, I guess after that he decided to pass on his dreams to other people."

Ryoma's ears perked. "Four years ago?" he repeated.

"Yes, when—wait, you don't know? Now, now, Ryoma. You should know _everything_ about the object of your affection," drawled Atobe sadistically.

The amber-eyed man scowled and threw some rolled up hats and scarves into the duffel bag with unnecessary force. The entire bag tipped over onto the floor. It seemed everyone was keeping him in the dark about what happened to Tezuka. Ryoma pursed his lips. Well, they were going to be alone for two days in the mountains. He supposed that would be a better occasion than any to confront the man directly—again. And maybe with a little more subtlety. Last time, his inquiries had almost resulted in near disaster. Maybe he should include alcohol in his new plan. Ryoma shook his head at the direction his thoughts were going. It seemed he had been spending too much time with that idiot father of his. Now some of his crazy ideas were infecting his son.

"Fine, keep your secrets. I'll find out soon enough," grumbled Ryoma as he righted the duffel bag. It was almost full. He sighed to himself. That had taken all afternoon. He now had three duffel bags to drop off at the shelter. But at least his closet finally had more room. Its overstuffed state had been irking him as of late. Perhaps it was because he discovered the other day that he had absolutely no room to store his coat. Ryoma shifted the phone to his other shoulder. "Hey, Keigo, want to go with me to the shelter?" he asked randomly.

If Atobe was in any way surprised by the inquiry, he made no notion of it as he answered in his usual sophisticated manner. "Planning to join a missionary are we?"

Ryoma chuckled. "I have some clothes I want to donate. It's called goodwill, Keigo. Ever practiced it?"

"Ah, how touching. Well, I suppose I can drive by and help you with your honorable quest."

"If you have any clothes you don't want you should donate them too, Keigo," continued Ryoma on a more serious note.

There were few things that he truly cared about in this world. Helping out those less fortunate had somehow climbed to the top of his list recently—along with surfing and Tezuka of course. Ryoma smiled. It seemed his priorities were somewhat jumbled. Fortunately, helping other people was something he always had time for. The other two required a little more dedication and skill—something Ryoma was still building up.

"Yes, I know, Ryoma. Honestly, you're such a saint," replied Atobe, but his tone was less scornful and held a hint of a smile.

"So when can you come over?"

"Give me fifteen minutes."

"Sure thing. See you then, Keigo."

"Unfortunately," was the older man's dramatic line as he hung up.

Ryoma placed the phone back in its stand with a smile. He then gathered the bags and went downstairs to situate them by the door. Karupin followed him as he entered the kitchen. Ryoma was intent on getting himself a drink for all his hard labor. After gulping down a glassful of water he cracked his back.

"Sitting cooped up in front of a closet all day long isn't ideal for humans, Karupin," he commented idly as the cat jumped into his lap. Karupin blinked up at his owner with knowing eyes and Ryoma smiled again. "Of course, you will never have that problem. But the next time you see me attempt to clean out _anything_, remind me to take a few breaks in between, okay?"

The cat meowed in acknowledgement.

"Hey, shounen! What the heck's up with the dump by the door? I hope you don't intend on leaving that there!" blared out Nanjirou as he burst into the kitchen, his usual magazine tucked under his arm.

Ryoma glared at his father. "Cool your horses. They'll be gone soon enough," he replied in English—just to smart his father's nerves. Nanjirou had always begrudged his son for being able to speak perfect English without an accent. And at times Ryoma would use that fact to his own advantage.

Nanjirou smacked his son over the head with his hand. "Don't get showy on me, brat," he chided.

"That's child abuse, Oyaji."

"Bah! You're not a child anymore!"

"I can still play to the jury's sympathetic side."

"What are you _talking _about?"

Ryoma had to keep his laughter in. It was a good thing Nanjirou never paid much attention to the American judicial system. It was amazing how ignorant his father could be in areas such as those.

"Oh, Ryoma! I noticed the bags by the door. Are you going to the shelter again?" quipped Rinko as she stepped into the kitchen.

Ryoma sighed to himself. There went his hopes for a peaceful and quiet departure. "Yeah, Keigo's dropping by soon to drive me over there."

"Keigo? You mean that wannabe punk? I thought you were after the other boy!" Nanjirou pondered aloud.

"_Kunimitsu_, Oyaji. And Keigo's a friend—you know that already."

"'Che, you need some more female friends in your life, shounen! I don't care if you do go for guys—"

"_Nanjirou_! Stop it already. You're going to traumatize our son!"

"_Traumatize_? He's my _son_! You knew he would come out screwed up!"

"I'm off!" chirped Ryoma as he left the room.

"And—oi, shounen! Get me some cigarettes while you're at it!"

"Get it yourself," replied Ryoma just as Rinko began scolding her husband.

"Nanjirou, what did I tell you about quitting?"

"I'm trying, I'm trying… Hey, Rinko-chaaaaan! Don't be upset!"

The voices of his parents faded as Ryoma picked up his bags and walked outside. He stood by the gate and leaned back against the wall, a hand covering his eyes as he looked towards the sky.

"Insane," he muttered to himself.

Faintly, he heard the rumbling of an engine and knew that it was Atobe arriving. Only the rich and fabulously profligate Atobe Keigo had to make his entrance into Ryoma's neighborhood known by the roaring of his new Cadillac or whatnot. Personally, Ryoma never paid much attention to cars and could care less about any new "babies" Atobe picked up along the years. But as it was, when a piercingly bright car parked into his driveway, Ryoma could not help but stare at the vehicle in a daze.

"Yo, Ryoma. Admiring Heather I see," greeted Atobe.

The younger man blinked slowly at the pink contraption moaning in his driveway. He raised a finger at it. "What the hell is that thing?" he asked with something akin to amazement in his tone.

Atobe smiled and caressed the steering wheel lovingly. "Beautiful, isn't she? I just got her custom-made," he said happily.

"I am not getting in that…_thing._"

"_She_ is not a _thing_, Ryoma."

"It's a car, Keigo. No matter how much you deny it…it will always be a car. A sexless—and lifeless—machine."

"Do you want a ride or not, wonder boy?"

Ryoma suppressed a shudder as he climbed into the passenger's seat by Atobe's left. He threw the duffel bags behind him and began to close the door with painstaking slowness. Atobe tapped his fingers against the wheel testily and when Ryoma finally shut the door, pressed on the gas full blast. They zoomed forward with barely a screech against the pavement. Ryoma had to give him credit for that at least.

"Are you trying to kill me? I knew it was too good to be true when you offered to drive me."

Atobe laughed and turned on the radio. "What, can't take the speed? And you want to go into surfing? Those ocean wipeouts are even more devastating than my driving!" he pointed out.

Ryoma rested his head in the palm of his hand. "But there's water, Keigo. Here there's nothing but _rock pavement_. Crashing here would bring about a pretty certain death," he said. Suddenly, Ryoma paused. Perhaps talking about driving accidents was not the best topic to discuss when in a vehicle with a speed demon. He got a distinctly bad vibe from it. He looked at Atobe warily. "So how's your gang?"

The younger man was pleased to note the little crinkle that appeared in between Atobe's eyebrows. "You certainly do my friends an insult, Ryoma. Even I do not resort to such brutish terms for your…companions," replied Atobe tersely.

"Yeah? Well—cat!"

The car swerved sharply to the left before screeching to a stop by the curb. Ryoma looked around the window and spotted the cat leaping away to safety. He breathed in a relieved sigh and then turned to glare at Atobe.

"Speedy Gonzalez," he said pointedly.

Atobe frowned slightly as he righted the car. Luckily, they had been going down an empty street. "Speedy Gonzalez?" he repeated uncertainly.

Ryoma nodded, crossing his arms over his chest grumpily. "A little American culture for you. Look it up when you have free time. But meanwhile, try not to kill anyone, okay?" he replied disdainfully.

"You can hardly blame me for not seeing that cat. It just landed in the middle of the street."

"Did I ever mention the cat?"

"You didn't—but I know you were thinking about it."

"Don't presume to be a mind-reading psychic, Keigo. You're already too much of a poser as it is."

Atobe whistled. "Well, well, someone seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," he remarked with some surprise.

That was the thing about Atobe—he was so damn presumptuous sometimes that Ryoma just found it hard to remain cool around him. The older man knew exactly what to say and do to get beneath his skin, and more often than not they spent their relatively few outings arguing the entire way. It was a fair balance, though. Ryoma also knew how to hit Atobe's nerves directly. They shared a very complex love/hate relationship that neither man would have preferred to talk about. It simply existed between them without further analyzing.

Nonetheless, it was a beautiful relationship.

"Well fuck. Give the guy a medal."

Ryoma found himself behaving much more differently around Atobe than with any of his other friends. It was probably due to the fact that they practically lived to annoy the hell out of one another. Considering how similar they were, it was hard not to be antagonistic towards the other. And the fact that they both knew it was in good humor meant they could say very harsh things to each other without feeling guilt. At times the cutting bluntness of their verbal exchanges alarmed others not familiar with their relationship. All Atobe and Ryoma could then was laugh.

"Hmph. You know how I feel about language like that, Ryoma. And it isn't wise to be cursing in front of your senior."

"You're two years older than me—not two decades."

"Same difference."

Ryoma smiled at Atobe's reflection in his window. "I'm curious, Keigo. Why are you after Kunimitsu?" he asked, bringing their discussion to a more personal level.

For a while Atobe said nothing and drove on in silence. When they entered a crowded intersection and slowed down due to traffic, he turned around to face Ryoma. "The same reasons as you I suppose," he answered smoothly.

The younger man arched an eyebrow. _Oh, you don't know my reasons, Keigo. _"You suppose. But that's not answering my question," he shot back.

Atobe smirked. "Well, that's a very delicate question, Ryo. You don't think I'll actually give you a straight answer do you?"

"Don't call me that and stop diverting the subject."

"If you want me to answer you'll just have to endure it, _Ryo-kun_."

Ryoma's eyes darkened. "You're too crazy for Kunimitsu."

"And like you're any better—you and your surfing dreams," said Atobe insultingly. He swiped away a stray lock of hair from his face with a flair. "Tezuka needs someone more mature and less _unsteady_."

The golden-eyed man regarded Atobe bitterly. "Of course, you're _so_ much more mature and _steady_ than I am, Atobe-sama," he mocked.

"Precisely," agreed Atobe with a pompous nod. "Tezuka has no time for children. And I don't think you fully appreciate the quiet and reserved side that is him."

They pulled up to the side of the shelter. The streets were alive with shoppers and pedestrians. Ryoma got out of the car and pulled out his bags. Atobe followed soon after with his own large shopping bag in hand.

The shelter was in a hectic state when the two ex-pros dropped off their donations by the admissions desk. They left without a single word shared between them. The ride back to Ryoma's home was equally as silent—but there was no tension in the air. The two had merely lapsed into a peaceful reverie where no vocalization was required in order to know what the other was thinking. Such was their relationship.

By the time they had reached Ryoma's house it was nearing early evening. The younger man got out of the car placidly and walked to his front door, stopping. Atobe always waited in his car until he saw Ryoma enter the house before setting off again. The older man was uncharacteristically thoughtful in that fashion. But that was high society for you. Even a spoiled and conceited aristocrat like Atobe knew how to treat his friends and lovers with the respect they deserved——despite the teasing and sarcasm he liked to inflict upon them afterwards. He was a very contradictory person.

Ryoma turned around and looked at Atobe. "This debate will continue later," he called out, knowing that he would understand.

The older man gave a lazy wave. "Sure thing. Shall I call you again tomorrow?"

"Yeah…," Ryoma began before remembering the trip. "Actually, no. Two days from now."

Atobe arched an eyebrow. "Going away?" he asked carefully.

"You could say I'm going to be spending two wonderful days _alone_ with Kunimitsu."

He had to give Atobe some credit, Ryoma thought. The man didn't even blink at his statement. Instead, he chuckled a little and shook his head.

"Ah, the extremes you'll go for Tezuka… It's amusing to watch really."

Gold eyes flashed. "What's the point of playing if I'm not going to try my best," he said calmly.

This managed to elicit a reaction from Atobe. Ryoma grinned to himself as the other man shrugged his shoulders, giving a final farewell, before driving off into the night.

Ryoma rotated his shoulders and stepped through his doorway where instant heat and light greeted him. He took off his coat and scarf and hung it by the hallway closet while slipping into his slippers. The house was eerily quiet.

"I'm home!" he called out as he ran a hand through his hair. He was tired. A few hours alone with Atobe always took a toll on his brainpower. He probably would not be able to think up of another witty response to his father's accusations if he didn't take a nap first.

Shuffling steps alerted the young man of an approaching figure. Ryoma looked up to see his cousin smiling at him. "Ryoma! Your parents went out for dinner. Also, Oishi-kun called before. He says they'll come by around nine to pick you up," greeted Nanako as he began to head up the stairwell.

"Gotcha," he called out while he trudged into his room and plopped down on the bed where Karupin had been resting. The cat jumped up at the sudden intrusion but comfortably settled down again on his master's stomach as Ryoma gave a tired sigh. "Today was a long day, Karupin. And it's not even over yet."

The cat merely snuggled deeper into his master's warm body. Ryoma smiled softly and ran his fingers through Karupin's fur before nodding off himself.

—Only to be startled out of his nap by the ringing phone two hours later.

Groaning, Ryoma stretched over and looked at the time._ How do the hours pass by that quickly?_ He gave a loud yawn as the phone continued its incessant ringing. Ryoma frowned. Usually Nanako was pretty good with answering the calls. He reached over and picked up the wailing portable on his desk.

"Echizen residence," he said dully, still not fully awake. But he was feeling significantly more energized now.

"That took a while."

Ryoma blinked several times. "Keigo?" he asked. Then he smirked. "Wow, you miss me already?"

"I've really messed up this time, Ryoma. I don't know exactly how I managed to miss it, honestly. I must be a goddamned idiot."

Atobe's tone was cold and self-deprecating. It alarmed Ryoma and he frowned deeply. "What's wrong, Keigo? You don't sound right," he asked, his apprehension increasing as Atobe continued his ranting.

"I don't know why I called you, Ryoma. I apologize for inconveniencing you. It's just somehow I picked up my cell and dialed the first number I saw. I'm really an idiot aren't I?"

The despair was evident in Atobe's words—something Ryoma had never known the other man to experience. Atobe was generally too proud and dignified to allow himself to wallow in self-pity. But the emotions he was getting off from the older man now wasn't simply that. Something was seriously wrong with Atobe—and Ryoma was beginning to worry.

"Keigo, listen to me. What the hell happened?"

"No, no, I can't disturb you any further than I already have. You have your trip…and Tezuka. I'll just go now. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine when you come back. Forget about this call, Ryoma. Please."

The line went dead with a heavy click. Ryoma gritted his teeth and hung up. _Dammit_. Normally, he would have rushed off and confronted Atobe head-on. But the other man had said _please_. And for him that was no simple feat. He genuinely wanted Ryoma to leave him alone until he was ready. Ryoma looked at the time. Oishi and the others would be picking him up in ten minutes. He wouldn't have had time to drive by Atobe's house anyway. He narrowed his eyes. _What could have happened to make Atobe so devastated? _

Ryoma hoped in earnest that everything was all right. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. _Just let it go_. Atobe had wanted him to forget about him for the duration of the trip. Fine, Ryoma would do that. There was an unwritten understanding between them about certain things like this. But once he came back, he was going to get answers no matter what. Ryoma nodded to himself firmly. Atobe could be selfish now but Ryoma wasn't going to let him off that easily.

The phone rang again.

This time Ryoma answered it immediately. "Hello?" he said—probably more intensely than he wanted.

"E-Echizen? We're outside your house now. Is everything okay?"

It was Oishi. Ryoma closed his eyes and went over to his bed where a large black duffel bag stood waiting for him. "Yeah, everything's fine. Just got up from a nap. I'll be down in a few," he said. He clicked the phone off and picked up his bag.

Karupin padded over quietly to his master and gave an affectionate rub around his ankles. Ryoma looked down and smiled gingerly. "Thanks, Karupin. You always know how to make me feel better. I'll see you soon, okay? Give Oyaji hell for me."

The cat purred in delightful concord. Ryoma headed down the stairs in a rush and caught the note hanging by the front door as he put on his shoes.

_Sorry, Ryoma. Had to go off to get some supplies. Be back soon. Nanako._

Ryoma quickly scribbled a message underneath his cousin's words: _No problem. I'm leaving now. See you in two days. Ryoma. _He then flew out the door and hopped into the black van waiting for him. Kikumaru was at the wheel and he turned around to grin cheerfully at the younger man.

"Ochibi! You were napping, huh? Did you spend the whole day playing, nya? Is that why you're tired?" he greeted enthusiastically.

Pushing away Atobe from his mind, Ryoma managed his usual glare. "Look forward," he directed.

The redhead gave a salutatory affirmation as he brought the engine to life. "I'll get us there in two hours!" he declared loudly.

"Eiji…it takes two hours by _train_."

"Nya, Oishi! Why do you always have to ruin everything?" 

The rest of the team was talking up a storm as they drove along the swarming streets. Within the next fifteen minutes they had left the bustle of the city and was entering the more secluded parts of Japan. Their surroundings quieted down but the noise and laughter in the van only got louder. Ryoma was sitting jam-packed between Tezuka and the luggage—a scenario no doubt conceived by Fuji's scheming mind.

They sat in silence for an hour, allowing the others to make up for their lack of participation, but eventually one of them cracked. And it was Ryoma.

"I hope you haven't forgotten about my ultimatum."

The other man stayed quiet for a long time. Ryoma considered the possibility that he might have fallen asleep but didn't care to check. He sat, staring out the window, as flakes of snow began to descend from the sky.

Then unobtrusively, "You'll have your answer by the end of this trip."

Ryoma blinked and turned around. Tezuka's eyes were closed where he sat, a serene expression painting his face.

Suddenly, all thoughts on Atobe disappeared from Ryoma's mind as he smiled.

* * *

TBC

Hey, now I can respond to you guys individually through this neat little feature FF created. Coolie! xD

I must also thank Zen Nat especially for continuously wowing me with your uber-long reviews. You do me too much credit. -Blushes-

And we won't be seeing Atobe again for a while, folks. Sorry. (I have to keep some things a secret you know.) :P But there will be plenty of Tezuka/Ryoma action in the next part. So hopefully you'll forgive me for the delay in getting this out! Thanks for making this story hit the big one-zero-zero. There's still a bit more left so stick around for a while...


	8. Lost Dreams

_Pretty emotional chapter. Blame the Moulin Rouge music I was listening to when writing the latter half. Hope you guys enjoy it anway. Don't kill me. xD_

**

* * *

**

**Hourglasses**

**Chapter VII**

* * *

"Hey…did I ever mention to anyone my extreme fear of heights?"

"Eiji, if you're so afraid why did you come up with us?"

"Because I didn't want to be all alone on the ground!"

Tezuka automatically disregarded his companions' chatter. While Kikumaru locked Oishi in a death grip, the latter attempted to balance himself lest the redhead manage to drag them both down the ledge in a very unsightly manner. Nearby Fuji was chuckling to himself and offering no aid whatsoever while Inui gave a lecture on the proper technique to use when skiing to a very attentive Kawamura, Momoshiro, and Kaidou. The three of them gaped at the bespectacled man as he described the dangers of skiing without poles.

A quick glance was all it took for Tezuka to realize that their youngest companion was missing. Tezuka didn't know whether he should have been more frustrated or amused. Either way, one thing was obvious: Ryoma required a leash.

"You said you've skied before!" exclaimed Oishi as he finally succeeded in dragging himself and his partner away from the treacherous ledge.

Kikumaru balled his fists. "I _have_! But this is an advanced trail! I'm only intermediate!"

"Eiji, weren't you paying attention to the instructor before we got here?" Fuji finally quipped. "He did give us proper warning."

The redhead looked appalled. "No way! I told him we were intermediates! He said this would be a good trail for us!"

"Maybe a misunderstanding occurred," mused Fuji, though his widening smile did little to reassure Kikumaru.

"This isn't funny, Fuji!" he wailed. Then his anger resumed. "That guy lied to us! Let's head back down and tell him off!"

Kikumaru managed to move about one foot before his poles caught onto his skies, resulting in him falling sideways into the snow with a crunch. Oishi sighed deeply.

"Eiji—"

But his words stopped short once a snowball landed squarely in his face. Kikumaru quickly detached himself from the skies and stood up with resounding pliancy, laughing as he prepared another attack on the sputtering Oishi.

"Snowball fight!" His war cry was sounded and Momoshiro was the first to react, catching Kaidou off guard when he launched a snowball at his head. It took the Mamushi several seconds to recover but by that time he was seething. And all mayhem ensued. While Kikumaru, Momoshiro, and Kaidou attacked one another, and a protesting Oishi, mercilessly, Inui resumed his lecture with Kawamura as his exclusive audience whereas Fuji chuckled at the expense of the others.

Tezuka watched the scene unfold in his usual distant manner. Somewhere in the back of his mind, though, he idly wondered exactly how old his friends were and why it seemed they had matured little in the past decade. He felt the slight tug of old habit telling him to stop the mess but ignored it. They were all adults now. He wasn't responsible for their actions anymore. And he trusted them to not go overboard—he hoped they wouldn't at least. Tezuka turned around and started when he caught Ryoma staring at him, a grin sprawled over his face.

"You're not going to stop them?" the golden-eyed man asked, arching an eyebrow.

"They're old enough to take care of themselves."

Ryoma snorted and glanced at Kikumaru as he wrestled Momoshiro down into the snow. "You don't _really_ believe that do you?"

A smile tugged on the corner of Tezuka's lips. "Depends on my mood."

"I suppose we have to head back down."

"Yes." Tezuka frowned slightly. How were they guided to such a remote area in the first place? Kikumaru had made their standings very clear. Did the instructor really misunderstand him? Tezuka thought that was almost impossible. Kikumaru was one of the loudest among them but unlike Momoshiro, he possessed more etiquette. He made sure his demands were always heard. It didn't seem likely for such a misunderstanding to occur. Tezuka shook his head. Perhaps he was reading into this too much.

"But since we're here…why not try out this so-called Dead Man's Ledge?" Ryoma glibly asked.

Tezuka looked at him. "Can you, first of all?"

Ryoma shrugged. "Can't be that hard, right?"

"Ryoma…"

"Ochibi!"

The younger man's smirk disappeared once he saw Kikumaru running towards him, Momoshiro in tow. Both of them looked decisively poised to kill as they raised their arms and launched their snowballs into the air.

Ryoma skied over to the snowy ledge as the assault barely missed him and grinned. "I'll catch you at the bottom!"

Tezuka barely managed to utter a word in response before the younger man winked at him cheekily and gave a strong push with his poles to fly over the cliff.

Kikumaru looked aghast. "Ochibi!" he cried, almost sure the young man would hurt himself. He ran to the edge and looked down in horror. "Ochibi, I'm sorry! We only—whoa, Ochibi!"

His dismay transformed into awe as he saw Ryoma skiing down the snowy mountain with ease, twisting and maneuvering his way around the trail with obvious expertise. Kikumaru gave an ear-piercing whistle with two of his fingers. "Go, Ochibi!"

"Hey, I didn't know Echizen was that good of a skier," Momoshiro wondered out loud.

"He's qualified as a ski instructor," informed Inui as he plucked out a small notebook from his pocket. "He got his license a few months ago."

"What? That bastard! And he left us here to show off!"

Inui adjusted his glasses. "It would seem so."

"Dammit, where's that lift? Let's go and beat him up!" Momoshiro looked around wildly and began heading back in the direction of the ski lift. Kikumaru soon joined him and Oishi followed in his attempt to maintain peace.

"Well, that was fun. Maybe now we can get some proper skiing done," Fuji remarked.

"Ryoma's really amazing. To think that he could get a license for becoming an instructor while he was a full-time tennis pro!" exclaimed Kawamura.

Fuji shrugged. "Tennis can't be played all the time."

"He certainly managed to get the others moving, though. Who knows how long they would have stayed up here playing with the snow if he hadn't interrupted," Inui said.

Fuji laughed. "That's true."

He paused when he noticed one of their own was missing. He turned around and looked at Tezuka, who still stood by the ledge, staring at the distance calmly. Fuji looked at his friend curiously. "Is something wrong, Tezuka?" he asked. Inui and Kawamura paused in their tracks.

Tezuka's reply was standard. "I'm fine. You can go on ahead. I think I'll stay here for a while longer."

Fuji remained quiet. Then he smiled. "All right. We'll see you later," he said.

Following their friend's cue Inui and Kawamura didn't ask any questions and simply left with Fuji. Tezuka smiled at their unusual acquiescence. It seemed they understood him more than he gave them credit for. He then looked towards the horizon again, breathing in deeply. This was peace. This was the solitude Tezuka could never find anywhere else. He needed it now more than ever. Taking off his skies, he walked over to a nearby boulder and dusted it off before sitting. He leaned his head back to face the gray sky.

"Now where to begin?"

* * *

"Oh yeah, _this_ is what I'm talking about," sighed Momoshiro. "Nothing beats a hard day's worth of trudging in the cold than a trip to an onsen."

The others were too busy absorbing the water's rejuvenating properties into their stiff joints to provide proper response. For once they were all silent and only the light trickling of water from a distant fountain broke the trance.

Then Kikumaru stirred and he lifted his half-submerged head from the water to look at Fuji inquisitively. "Oh yeah, where did Tezuka go? He didn't come back with you before."

Fuji's relaxed expression didn't change as he replied. "Oh, he stayed up in the mountain. Don't know why, though," he said loftily.

"You don't know _why_? That's not like you, Fuji!"

"Even I can't invade his space too much, Eiji. Whatever his reasons were, they're his own."

"But we haven't seen him all day and it's _night_ now. Are you sure he came back down?" queried Kikumaru, growing worried now.

Fuji opened his eyes. "I doubt he's still up there. Tezuka's not careless like that."

"Hardly anyone was there when we were; it's an advanced trail. If he injured himself he wouldn't be able to call for help. The lifts were pretty far off from the site we were at," Oishi suddenly exclaimed.

An uneasy silence reigned over them for a while. When the door to the bathhouse suddenly burst open, they all jumped. Ryoma padded quietly into the room, yawning.

"I thought you guys would be louder. But this silence is actually kind of scary."

Oishi looked at the younger man in concern. "Echizen, did you see Tezuka by any chance?"

"No." Ryoma stretched his limbs before lowering himself into the water slowly, drinking up the heat contentedly. He leaned his head back against the edge and closed his eyes, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"No one here has seen Tezuka all day since we left Dead Man's Ledge."

Ryoma's eyes didn't open. "So?"

"It's strange that you wouldn't have seen him. You two are sharing rooms, right?" asked Inui.

"Yeah, but I haven't been by our room all day," replied Ryoma.

"What if Tezuka's in trouble?" Kikumaru declared suddenly.

"We gotta find him!" added Kaidou.

"Let's go!" cried Momoshiro.

The three of them stood up and looked ready for action.

"Wait," drawled Ryoma, finally opening his eyes, "I remember now. I saw him an hour ago. He was at the lounge reading."

Momoshiro, Kikumaru, and Kaidou appeared on the verge of murdering the younger man if it hadn't been for Oishi's tactful interference.

"Come on, guys! We've been here long enough. Let's go see what Tezuka's up to, okay?"

This managed to diffuse the three's tempers somewhat and their murdering glares settled down to simple resentment.

"You guys can go. I just got here. I'm staying," Ryoma said offhandedly.

Oishi, with the help of Kawamura, managed to prevent Kikumaru and Momoshiro from doing any unnecessary damage to Ryoma while Inui said some words to Kaidou about "trying out a new drink later" that completely obliterated the man's will for any vengeance.

"Right, Echizen, we'll catch up with you later!"

With that Oishi and the others left. Only Fuji remained in the room and he watched Ryoma with a critical eye.

"You know…it would almost seem as if you're avoiding Tezuka."

He didn't get any response from the younger man. Fuji smiled and stood up, wrapping a towel around his waist. He walked over to the exit before stopping.

"I can only help you so much, Ryoma. Ultimately, it's up to you to finish the rest."

With that, he left the other man alone. After some time, Ryoma opened his eyes. He stared at the blank ceiling. "Calling me by my first name… Does that mean you're no longer going to interfere? So that means you trust me enough to take care of him by myself." Ryoma smiled. "All right, Syusuke. I'll try not to disappoint."

* * *

Tezuka would have to remind himself for future reference to never spend an entire day sitting on a rock. It did wonders to his lower back. Even now he was wincing every time he stood up and sat back down. Well, such was life. You can't get everything you want, his grandmother once said to him. It was one of the many wise words she parted to him before she passed away. Tezuka closed his book with a sigh and looked out the window. It was a beautiful lodge. And it was fortunate that Fuji's aunt and uncle ran it otherwise they would have never been able to afford staying here. As such, because of their connections, they had been given the best accommodations.

"_Tezuka! Next time you want to scare us half to death do it _after_ I die!"_

Those had been Kikumaru's words when he and the others burst into the lounge half an hour ago. Fortunately, Tezuka had been the only one there besides the couple who ran the snack counter. After a few minutes of severe chastising, which Tezuka never expected to receive from Kikumaru of all people, everyone else calmed down and settled around the spacious room. Tezuka stayed for only a little longer before setting off for bed.

And yet here he was, perched by the window seat, a hot cup of water sitting not too far away from his reach, and definitely not ready to sleep any time soon. He pushed his glasses up and watched as snow began falling from the sky. He had been thinking the entire day. He had told Ryoma he would have his answer by the end of the trip. Today was now almost over and they would be leaving tomorrow evening. Tezuka wasn't so sure if he was ready to give his answer. Needless to say, he had been thinking about it for the past week almost nonstop. Try as he might, ignoring Ryoma was an extremely difficult thing to do—even with the man not physically present before him.

He folded his arms around a propped up leg. He told himself he would be completely honest. And deep down he already knew the answer from the beginning. But it scared him greatly. He was accustomed to dealing with things alone. Even with his friends' support, it was always just that—comradely, safe, and different from letting just one person into his heart. Tezuka wasn't sure if he wanted that even if he did trust the individual.

_Why am I so afraid?_ That question had ran through his head so many times today that Tezuka almost would have welcomed Momoshiro and Kikumaru's loud chatter if only to drown out the sound of that one unanswerable inquiry. Because he honestly didn't know why. Or if he did, he wouldn't allow himself to admit it.

"Reading again I see."

Tezuka looked up as Ryoma walked in, hair wet and flecks of water making damp spots on his tee shirt. Automatically, Tezuka walked over and reached for a towel in his dresser before tossing it over to the younger man. "Dry your hair. You'll get sick."

Ryoma cracked a smile. "Says the guy who sat up in the mountains by himself all day."

Tezuka chose not to respond and sat back down on his bed, taking his water with him. Ryoma quickly dried off his hair and sat down across from the older man. He stared at Tezuka as he took several long sips from his mug and grinned.

"So why did you spend the whole day alone?"

He was being unusually talkative. Ryoma knew this but didn't care. Because Tezuka was being unusually cold. And that prompted him to find out why.

"I needed some time to clear my head."

Ryoma hid his smile and adopted a more casual expression. "Really. Did you accomplish your task?"

"Not exactly."

"Too bad. Mind sharing?"

"No."

Tezuka could practically see Ryoma's smug expression without even looking. This was it—the very thing he shirked away from. His friends knew never to ask too many personal questions. Fuji and Oishi were the only two exceptions to that rule but even they knew when to draw the line. Inui, Tezuka found out, always simply knew and never even bothered to ask. He interfered seldom and only when Tezuka really needed the head-butting. But Ryoma disregarded everything and did things his own way. Dug in too deep and penetratingly sometimes—and Tezuka wasn't sure how to respond because he had never been in such a situation before.

"Thinking only to yourself is going to mess you up one day."

At this Tezuka looked up and caught Ryoma's expression. For once the golden eyes weren't filled with amusement or sarcasm. Instead, they stared back at Tezuka with almost frightening intensity—the kind of intensity Ryoma generally reserved only for the tennis court.

"Why do you say that?"

Tezuka was allowing Ryoma to run this conversation. Partly because he was mildly interested in hearing what the other man had to say and partly because he himself had nothing else to offer.

"It's obvious isn't it? If you keep yourself to _yourself_, you're going to miss out on everything," Ryoma said.

"People can't help their fear."

Golden eyes flashed. "So what? Are they going to continue living in the shadow of fear? That's ridiculous. What are they afraid of? They have friends, family, dreams—"

"Attachments. Devotion. Full trust in someone else but themselves. Like going for a dream, all of it can betray them one day, leaving them empty and broken. Recovery is never complete," interrupted Tezuka, slipping back into the shell of his past. He knew where all of this was heading and he also knew exactly who both he and Ryoma were talking about. Strange how the conversation had begun so humbly and now was escalating into something of greater significance.

Ryoma watched him. "Like a dream, huh? So, does this have anything to do with you four years ago?"

And now the masquerade had ended. Ryoma had asked the very question Tezuka knew would come eventually. He berated himself for permitting the conversation to go on in this manner for so long.

"You're still on that," he said, deadpanned.

"Well, it seems no one else wants to tell me. And it's really your story to share, isn't it?" retorted Ryoma, shrugging. "I don't know what could have happened, but apparently it affected you pretty badly. You're even harder to reach than the time you were in Germany."

"Is that what you think?"

"No, it's what I know. And you know it too because you're the perpetrator," was Ryoma's swift accusation. "You're doing it on purpose too, if I might add."

Tezuka blinked. _Where is this leading to now? _He had no idea how he had fallen so easily into Ryoma's trap. But now there was no use in trying to escape. To do so would be cowardly and all the more disrespectful to Ryoma—who, despite everything else—was still his friend. So Tezuka finished his drink and folded his hands neatly in his lap.

"I'll tell you what happened then."

Ryoma looked surprised. Tezuka couldn't fathom why. Perhaps it was because the younger man expected more of an argument from him. But that was hardly Tezuka's preferred course of action. Debating was not in his nature.

The golden-eyed man took a seat on the carpeted floor, peering up at Tezuka expectantly. His expression was wiped clean and Tezuka had no clue as to what Ryoma was thinking.

"Four years ago I was selected to participate in the U.S. Open," he began, "but something happened the morning I was to take off."

"I had heard you were coming to participate. I wondered why you didn't," Ryoma idly commented.

Tezuka nodded, his expression grim. "The taxi I was in got into an accident. It was raining that morning so the roads were especially hazardous. A speeding car skidded down the road and we were caught in its path."

Ryoma's eyes widened. "Were you—?"

"The other car's occupants received minor injuries. My driver broke his arm and I was thrown from the cab," concluded Tezuka.

The tension could have been cut with a knife. Ryoma shifted in his place, frowning deeply. "Nobody told me," he said quietly.

"You were in the States. And that was during the time you were just beginning to rise in prominence. The others wanted to spare you from the news—and I'm glad they did."

"Why?" Ryoma's eyes glared at Tezuka.

Tezuka stared back at him evenly. "Why do you think?"

Ryoma shook his head. "I know we were never that close, but I would have thought—"

"The others didn't tell you because they didn't want you to come back and ruin your chances of progressing further in your career."

"And you?"

"I was unconscious for a week. I didn't really have say in the matter."

"A week?" Ryoma's anger gave way to shock. "How badly were you injured?"

Tezuka thought to himself for some time. If he had to be honest it wasn't the accident itself that had scared him. It was the thought of coming so close to death that made him shudder. After the crash his entire perspective on life changed. "I suffered some major injuries. I had to undergo six months of physical therapy before I was released," he said offhandedly.

"Six months. But you're completely fine now, right?"

"Yes, I was very lucky. Even my doctors were surprised I had managed a complete recovery after such a horrible accident."

Tezuka spoke in an extremely laidback manner. It was something that disturbed Ryoma. This accident, according to both Fuji and Atobe, had changed Tezuka—and yet here he was talking about in the most uncaring manner possible. Or was there something else to the whole picture? Ryoma frowned.

"So why didn't anyone tell me afterwards? And why didn't you go back to tennis?"

A sharp look entered Tezuka's eyes. Ryoma knew he had hit the jackpot this time.

"Like I said before, I didn't want to distract you from your goals. As for tennis… I decided it was no longer as important."

Ryoma arched an eyebrow. "No longer important as what?"

"Life."

"What?"

Out of all the possible answers swimming around in Ryoma's head, Tezuka's response was the last thing he would have imagined. "What are you talking about?" He was growing impatient and annoyed. Ryoma breathed in deeply and tried to relax, but Tezuka was truly becoming frustrating.

"It's getting late. We should get some sleep; we have an early start tomorrow."

Ryoma narrowed his eyes. "We're not finished," he all but growled.

Tezuka watched him stoically. "I told you what you wanted to know," he said with finality.

_This was why he was such a good captain. No one could stand up to him when he used that tone. _But Ryoma was past listening to initial instincts shouting at him to obey the older man—damn the consequences. "No, you didn't. You just explained the circumstances. But I still don't know _why_ you abandoned tennis."

If looks could kill. Ryoma almost flinched when Tezuka looked at him again. The iciness and cold fury were almost more than enough to make him lose his will. Ryoma stayed his ground, though, and Tezuka stared at him for one long moment—a moment that made Ryoma wonder if the older man was even human. Such was the impassiveness in Tezuka's bearing that made him seem nonliving—a perfect sculpture of emotionless beauty. It pained Ryoma.

"You're lucky, Ryoma…to be able to see your dreams so clearly. I have lost that ability."

Then he settled into his bed, back turned against Ryoma, and turned off the lights.

Ryoma sat alone in the darkness, staring at the huddled form of the man before him, confused and hesitant. He remained on the floor even after ten minutes had passed, simply watching Tezuka's outline silhouetted against the weak light pouring from the window. Snow still fell from the gray sky and Ryoma watched the fat flakes dust the glass. It seemed an eternity had gone by before he finally stirred. But he didn't go to bed. He stepped out of the room and lingered by the door for a few seconds, seeing the light from the bright hallway cast his shadow against the far side of the room.

"Good night," he said, faltering, and then adding, "I'm sorry."

He closed the door with a barely audible click and walked a few short meters away from the room before leaning against the wall tiredly. Ryoma rested a palm over his eyes. "This turned out to be deeper than I thought. Damn you, Syusuke. You never warned be about this."

Ryoma looked back at the room. He had underestimated how much Tezuka was unwilling to break out of his shell—and now he was beginning to understand why. The only question left now was how he was going to shatter Tezuka's facades and make the older man realize what a complete fool he was being. Initially, this had started out almost like a joke, Ryoma asking Tezuka out in front of everyone at the café. But now it had turned into something else altogether. Ryoma was being honest when he said he was interested in Tezuka, but somewhere along the way he had been charmed into feeling something more for the older man. It had begun as a random whim, supported wholly by Fuji, but was culminating in something more serious. Ryoma no longer cared if Tezuka reciprocated his feelings. He just wanted to _help_. The older man had always provided inspiration and guidance to his peers, and now it was Ryoma's turn to return the favor.

"Aspirin?"

Ryoma opened his eyes and saw Inui approach him with a tiny capsule in hand. "Why do you think I need it?" he asked, staring at the older man oddly.

Inui shrugged. "You looked like you had a headache. My mistake."

"Did you know Kunimitsu was this stubborn?"

The question had come out on its own. Ryoma didn't look at Inui as he waited for an answer.

A deep chuckle filled his ears, causing Ryoma to look up as Inui gave an amused smile. "Of course. I've been observing him for over ten years now after all. But despite all our hard work and sweat, we've failed miserably. I know now that only you will succeed where we could not. Good night, Echizen." With that cryptic message Inui continued his way down the hall until disappearing into his own room silently.

Ryoma smiled to himself, still staring at the spot where Inui stood.

"Well, it seems everyone's rooting for me. I guess I have to try harder." An unbidden memory surfaced his mind.

_Nanjirou grinned at a five-year-old Ryoma trying to serve a ball over the net. "The sands are falling, shounen. What the heck are you waiting for? Just do it already."_

With a rapid turn Ryoma headed back to his and Tezuka's room and slammed the door open, turning on the lights. Almost at once the older man sat up, looking at him in alarm.

"Did something happen?"

"You could say that."

Apprehension clouded Tezuka's eyes and Ryoma stepped forward, kneeling down beside his bed.

"You really think this is going to protect you?" he asked, eyes dark and hidden.

Tezuka frowned. "What are you—?"

He was silenced when a pair of lips met his own, however. The force was powerful and moving—Tezuka was stunned. But like lightning its ephemeral effects were soon gone and he was gazing into golden orbs once again. Ryoma's hands were on either side of his face, and he was smiling at Tezuka in the most open way he had ever seen from the younger man.

"I'll show you. I'll show you what's wrong. I'll light a fire in your soul like you did mine ten years ago."

* * *

**TBC**


	9. Falling

_Good lord. Over a year in the waiting, this part. I honest to God didn't mean for this to take so long. Many, many apologies. Oh, and I tortured Ryoma here. This is actually a surprisingly lighthearted chapter. Heh.  
_

* * *

**Hourglasses**

**Chapter VIII  
**

* * *

Ryoma wondered if he had gone too far. 

Noticing the way Tezuka had completely avoided his gaze that morning, he thought maybe he did. He sighed to himself. He was much more of an instinctual person than most gave him credit for. Echizen Ryoma, tennis prodigy, a skilled tactician on the field—he could have laughed at the sound of it. His tennis had never been strategic like Fuji or Inui's—he reacted solely on what seemed right to him. He had the best instincts and raw understanding of the game. That was what made him win.

Apparently, outside of tennis, the case was something else altogether.

Sometimes instinct didn't work on other people—especially when it came to wooing others.

Ryoma groaned and plopped down on his bed. The others had gone for a second round of skiing. He had chosen to stay behind and do some thinking—copying Tezuka's own actions from yesterday. Only Ryoma was not really pondering his actions as much as he was rebuking himself for his idiocy. He rarely regretted anything in his life. But he was seriously regretting yesterday night.

Tezuka hadn't responded at all to him. It was a silent staring contest between the two for some seconds until the older man turned over and hid himself under the sheets. It was then Ryoma knew he had done something wrong. Whether it was the kiss or the words—or just the timing of it all—he knew he had done something fundamentally wrong. Tezuka had skillfully ignored him all day and even Kikumaru and Momoshiro had picked up on it; their silence was a blessing to Ryoma. He really didn't think he could have dealt with them teasing him about it.

"People are so complicated," he said out loud to the empty room.

Ryoma realized that his problem also lied in the fact that he really had no experience in dealing with people's emotions. He didn't have Fuji's witty charm or Inui's constant observations. He handled people the same way he tackled everything else—bluntly and with no real consideration. He also had poor skills when it came to reading people's reactions. So Tezuka was ignoring him, what was he going to do about it? Ryoma knew there was some kind of formula to follow in these types of situations, but he could not figure it out for the life of him. Confronting Tezuka would be his initial response, but what was it about giving people some time to think? Was he supposed to wait until Tezuka came to him then? Ryoma scrunched his eyes shut and shook his head.

"This is impossible!"

"_Ah, Ryoma, what are you going to do about personal relationships? You're great at tennis—you're great at any sport you decide to go for—but let's face it, shounen, your Achilles heel is love. And trust me, that's going to come back and bite you in the ass when you're older."_

"I hate it when the old man's right," muttered Ryoma darkly. He stood up and walked over to the window. The snow had piled up through the night and the storm was still continuing on a lighter path, blanketing the entire world in white. Ryoma squinted as he looked into the horizon. Various shapes crossed over the hills and pathways—Tezuka was somewhere in there. Ryoma pressed his forehead against the window pane, feeling the cold air bite his skin. "I can't believe I'm locked up in here like this—to think I would have converted to some lovesick high school girl, moaning over her latest failure in capturing her crush. So this is how it feels to care for someone like this, huh? It's not very nice."

He was moping. Ryoma could have laughed at his pathetic state. In fact, he did. He shook his head and laughed into the empty room, wondering why he was encaging himself inside. With a resolute expression, he gathered his coat and headed out. He couldn't stay in the room forever. This was their last day. He only had a few more hours until they were back in Tokyo. And then Tezuka would make his decision. Ryoma sighed as he pulled on his gloves. Well, there wasn't much else he could do now to win over Tezuka. He was sure the older man had already made his decision anyhow. Ryoma just hoped his actions last night had not royally screwed him over.

"Heading out?"

Ryoma looked at the receptionist. He was a kindly old man who had greeted Ryoma and his company with surprising grace and humor considering their rambunctiousness. "Just for a walk. We'll be leaving tonight," he said.

"Ah, such a shame. You boys were an interesting bunch. Especially that red-haired one…"

Ryoma had to smile a little. "Kikumaru. He's an interesting one all right."

The receptionist smiled. "Well, have a good walk."

Nodding, Ryoma left the lodge and entered the wintry wonderland. He stood for a few minutes, adjusting to the cold, before taking a random path. He stuck his earphones in and then waited for loud American rock to greet him.

For a while, all was peace. Ryoma walked through a forestry pathway, admiring the trees and stillness around him. You certainly didn't get this kind of calmness in the cities. It was frigid cold but he relished it. Eventually, his walk took him into a hidden glove. Ryoma stopped for a bit, staring upwards at the open sky. The snow had stopped briefly, leaving him with a clear view of perfect grayness. Ryoma closed his eyes. It was almost mystical—and he could have berated himself for using such a term—but this place was truly _magical_. He could find no other word to describe it. Pulling out his earphones, Ryoma listened to the silence.

"Help! Mama! Papa!"

Golden eyes snapping open in alert, Ryoma looked around in surprise. The voice sounded suspiciously like a child. Frowning, he began running in the general direction of the cry. "I'm coming! Where are you?" he called back.

There was a pause. And then, "I'm over the ledge! I'm stuck down here! Please, help!"

The child was panicking. Ryoma cursed under his breath. Either the child had left her parents willingly, or it was the parents that were the irresponsible ones. He really didn't care for this type of drama. It was his luck that he would be stuck with rescuing a kid. Ryoma sighed to himself. Such was fate.

He came to a ledge and looked down cautiously. He saw the little girl eyeing him fearfully from a few yards down. "Jesus," he muttered darkly, looking around for something that was strong enough to pull the child up—or at least something he could have tethered himself to. "Hang on, kid."

"No! Don't leave me! I'm scared!"

The kid was crying. Ryoma groaned inwardly. Even he didn't have the heart to ignore tears. "Stop crying. I'm not leaving. Just…let me figure out something. Be a good girl and stay quiet," he said. The child nodded and sniffled. She must have been five or six. Ryoma narrowed his eyes. There was nothing around him he could use as rope. He had no choice but to go back to the lodge. He cursed himself for not bringing his cell. "All right, listen, I'm going to have to…"

He should have known not to put his guard down. Ryoma could have died from shame. As it was, the portion of the ledge he was standing on began to crack and groan. And before he could even finish his sentence, the ledge broke and Ryoma went sliding down to meet with the child, who screamed as the debris cascaded on them. Instinctively, Ryoma went to protect the girl and waited for the snow and ice to pass them, praying that _they_ would not fall even further. After a few seconds of holding his breath, silence resumed, and Ryoma dared to look around them.

So he was now stuck in the same place as the kid. Perfect.

"This is not my day," he groaned, shifting around slowly, grimacing at the pain in his right shoulder. He rubbed at it idly while trying to catch his bearings. "Sorry, kid, looks like we're stuck here together."

"Niichan's hurt."

Ryoma looked down at the child. The girl peered up at him, not annoyingly, but in concern. He refrained from rolling his eyes. As sweet as the child was, Ryoma found it disconcerting that a child probably more than a decade his junior was worried about _him_. But he hid his discomfort and smiled a little. "Nah, I'm fine. I've suffered worse from tennis," he said.

The girl's eyes brightened. "Echizen Ryoma! You're really him?"

"You know me?"

"No, but Papa's always watching your games! Wait till he comes and rescues us! He'll be so excited!"

Ryoma could not hide his amusement at the child's sudden lack of fear. He looked up from where they were standing. It was not a good location, and he had the strangest feeling that if they lingered there longer something worse would happen. The ledge cliff was not so far from his reach. He probably could have made it up by jumping. Then he froze.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Meimi!"

"All right, Meimi, come over here. You think you can reach the ledge if I put you on my shoulders?"

"Umm…"

_She's a kid, Ryoma, no complicated questions remember? _Ryoma gestured with his hand. "Come on, it'll be all right. I'm pretty strong you know," he said reassuringly.

Meimi nodded, smiling brightly. "Okay!"

Bless children's innocence. Ryoma almost felt guilty for guiding her so blindly. He picked the child up from under the shoulders and placed her around his neck. Thank God she was just a kid—and thank God he had that late growth spurt. Meimi squealed in delight at her sudden change in height and giggled happily. Ryoma smiled.

"Do you see the ledge, Meimi?" he asked, turning them around to face the cliffy ledge.

"Yeah!"

"Can you reach it with your arms?"

"Uh huh!"

"Good girl. Hang on tight," said Ryoma tightly, prepping himself for what was probably a risky maneuver. His shoulder was aching terribly too. "I'm going to—"

"MEIMI!"

"Papa!"

Ryoma suddenly felt a load lifted off his shoulders and looked up. He could hear a man and woman crying desperately while Meimi laughed obliviously.

"Meimi, how could leave like that? Do you know how worried Mama and Papa were?" cried the man.

"Papa! Guess who's down there! It's Echizen Ryoma!"

"Now Meimi, what did I tell you about telling lies…"

"But I'm serious! Look down! I think Niichan's hurt!"

Ryoma could almost sense the father's hesitation and waited patiently—if not somewhat embarrassingly—for the man to appear. When the older man's face popped up over the ledge, he gave an insincere half smile.

"Yo."

"Oh my God!"

The man disappeared. Ryoma sighed. The man reappeared again. "Um, please, hold on, Echizen-san! My wife went to get help! She'll be back shortly! Um…did I mention what a great fan of yours I am?"

"No, but your daughter has."

The man blushed. "Ah, yes… Meimi loves to talk…"

Ryoma felt it again. The snow crunched below him and there was a moment of absolute stillness where he cursed his luck once again before the ground gave away below him. Meimi's father gave out an alarmed cry as Ryoma fell—which brought the young man back to reality. Yes, he was falling. And yes, he was probably going to be hurt after this. Damn. He just hoped it would not be a long fall. But as the scenery swept by him—as he watched his own hand attempt to grab onto _something_ to stop his rapid descent—he knew he was screwed. Rapid images of the gray sky, snow flying in the cool air, rocky bits colliding with ice, and the ledge appearing farther away from him flashed before his eyes. And then it was over.

And then the pain kicked in.

And then Ryoma really began to curse his luck.

"Shit," he groaned, shifting to his side.

He had landed awkwardly. His right leg looked a little bent out of shape—to which Ryoma realized with some growing horror—and his side was aching. When he looked up, he saw he had fallen down into some sort of trench quite a ways below the ledge he was originally perched on. So much for snowy ledges. Ryoma made a mental note to avoid all solitary walks into snowy woods from here on out.

Meimi's father was still calling out to him.

"Echizen-san! Are you all right?"

The man sounded much further away but Ryoma could still see the man's head peeking over the cliff. "I'm okay!" he shouted back. He surveyed his cramped surroundings and twisted leg, the pain really beginning to roar its ugly head now. He cringed. "I think I broke my leg," he added.

"My wife's coming! There are workers on their way now!"

_Yeah, but how long is it going to take them to get down here_, asked a sadistic voice in Ryoma's head. The young man sighed tiredly. His shoulder and ribs ached, his leg was probably broken—somehow, there was still one good outcome to all this: It had managed to thoroughly wipe Tezuka out of his mind. Until now that is. Now Ryoma wished he had stayed in his room. Moping was certainly better than this. And he could only imagine the others' reactions when they found out what happened to him. Kikumaru and Momoshiro would never let him live it down. Oishi, Kawamura, and Kaidou would probably be the only ones really worried—of course Kaidou would never show it openly—and Fuji and Inui would probably show some concern in addition to amusement. Those two were sadistic sons of a gun.

Tezuka would be worried too.

Ryoma ran a hand through his hair. The former captain would no doubt give him a good lashing with some very stern words and that severe look of his whenever he went into his lecture mode. Ryoma almost smiled. In that sense, Tezuka was as predictable as ever.

"Echizen-san! Are you all right?"

That was the voice of one of the workers. Ryoma tried to sit up comfortably, hissing sharply when his leg protested. "Not exactly," he answered.

"We're sending workers down to where you are. They'll have better access. Can you move on your own?"

"No."

"We'll be calling for paramedics then."

Ryoma winced and then pulled out something from below him—his iPod. It was still working. He sighed. Well, that was another good thing. He was rather fond of this one. It had been a gift from Nanako a few years back after his victory at Wimbledon. Ryoma never said much to his cousin, but he had been touched when she gave the present to him.

"How long will this take?"

"They're on their way now. It shouldn't take no more than a few minutes."

A few minutes turned into half an hour before Ryoma found himself out of the trench. By that time he was still conscious, in total pain, but very much awake and irritable. His paramedic had asked him all the standard questions as they loaded him onto the van and Ryoma was about ready to kill someone before Meimi showed up with her parents. She had tears in her eyes again.

"Is Niichan going to be all right? Meimi's sorry for hurting Niichan."

Ryoma's temper was ignored in favor for ruffling the girl's hair affectionately. He managed a tight smile. "No, Niichan's fine. It's just that I don't like these guys too much," he said, waving to the paramedics around him in annoyance.

Meimi giggled, nodding. Her parents moved in to thank Ryoma again for saving their daughter before the doors were slammed and the ambulance was on its way. Ryoma leaned back in the stretcher, watching everything unfold around him hectically. Today had been an interesting day all right. And it wasn't even half done.

* * *

"…Ochibi, nya! When will he wake up?" 

"Patience, Kikumaru. He did have quite an accident."

"Man, I can't believe this guy! Nearly gave me a heart attack when the receptionist told us he was at the hospital!"

"But he did save that little girl."

"Yeah, and since when did Echizen turn into such a nice guy?"

"Shut up, Momo," groaned Ryoma, lifting a hand to his eyes. He was groggy beyond belief. It felt as if a ton had been placed over his eyelids—he could barely open them. He was also aware of too many bodies in one room. Weren't there normally restrictions on how many people were allowed to visit a patient? When he finally managed to open his eyes, he could make out Kikumaru gazing at him closely from his left, Momoshiro on his right, and a group of bunched up shapes at his feet. "How long was I out?"

"Only an hour or so," replied Fuji calmly.

Ryoma began to make out the shapes better. It was Fuji, Inui, Oishi, and Kawamura at his feet. Kaidou and Tezuka stood off to the side. He sighed. "So what's the diagnosis?"

"Dislocated right shoulder, two fractured ribs, and a broken leg—the lattermost will take the longest to heal. The doctors said you could leave whenever but advised you to stay for at least two days under observation," answered Inui.

"Great," muttered Ryoma. "Are we leaving tonight then?"

There was a small outcry of protests in response to his words. Oishi looked horrified and began lecturing Ryoma on taking his health more seriously. Even Fuji had gazed at him with no small amusement in his eyes. Ryoma closed his eyes and blocked out the voices around him. A part of him knew it would be safer to stay at the hospital for several more days—but he also knew he hated being pampered when he didn't need it.

"It's his choice. If he wants to leave then we can do that. He's not a child anymore."

There was silence. Ryoma opened his eyes and looked at Tezuka, who was staring back at him just as intensely. The older man had a frosty look about him, but the eyes directed at Ryoma gave away nothing.

"Tezuka…," murmured Oishi, knowing his battle was over. He looked at Ryoma concernedly. "Are you sure, Echizen? You don't have to feel obligated to go back just because of us. An extra few days is no big deal."

Ryoma's gaze softened at the older man. "I mean it. Let's go back home."

Oishi sighed deeply, but he managed a small smile. "All right then. I guess we should get your paperwork ready," he said, moving out of the room. "I'll go inform the doctor."

"Thanks," smiled Ryoma.

Momoshiro bopped him on the head lightly. "You bastard, trying to act all tough, huh?" he teased.

Ryoma smirked. "There is no try."

"Don't go all Yoda on us, wiseass! I _know _Star Wars."

"That's all you know, Momo."

"What the—? Let me at him!"

The group laughed as Momoshiro was jokingly held back by Kawamura. Ryoma grinned openly. As fundamentally wrong this day had turned out to be, it looked like everything was going to end all right. He thanked whatever karma he had for at least this much.

It turned out to be an afternoon of laughter and jokes. Fuji had managed to persuade the doctor into allowing them to stay until Ryoma would be released—a trick the young man wouldn't have minded learning from the former tennis prodigy. A few hours later, with not too much disgruntlement, Ryoma was out of the hospital and being driven back to the lodge. Kikumaru took control of the wheel this time—Oishi had kept turning around in his seat to make sure Ryoma was all right and had nearly crashed them into a tree—and in less than half an hour the ex-pro was back in his room with Tezuka. Dinner was quick—some instant noodles and grape juice—and soon, the packing was underway. Ryoma remained on the bed. Tezuka had insisted he get his rest. It wouldn't have been so hard to pack the younger man's things anyway. Ryoma had always traveled light.

As Ryoma watched Tezuka fold his clothes in pristine manner, he couldn't help but smile. Everything was organized. Even his socks had been rolled into neat balls and packed carefully. It occurred to Ryoma that Tezuka was a little anal. And that made him chuckle out loud.

"What is it?"

The bespectacled man looked at Ryoma. A genuine smile from the younger man was rare enough. Tezuka couldn't recall a time where he'd seen Ryoma laugh openly. The sight softened his temper a little. He had been struck with concern and fear when he'd heard Ryoma was in the hospital—hit with anger and frustration at the man's recklessness when he said he wished to leave that very night.

"You're very organized, Kunimitsu," replied Ryoma, a trace of laughter still in his voice.

Tezuka paused. "And you are not."

This time Ryoma grinned. "Of course. I hope it didn't take you this long to realize that."

"I was your captain. I saw your locker. I knew."

"I never knew you paid attention to stuff like that," said Ryoma. He sat up a little straighter. "So who's the messiest out of us all?"

Tezuka continued folding clothes, thinking of the answer. He then smiled faintly. "Kikumaru," he answered.

"Seriously? I always thought it'd be Momo," remarked Ryoma.

"Momo is actually very organized. Not nearly as much as Oishi, though. He's the worst."

Ryoma smiled. "And Fuji? Inui?"

"Both are relatively messy. Inui's room is horrible. Only his desk area and file cabinets are in perfect order. Kaidou is also fairly organized. He has his own interesting method of organizing, though. Something only he understands. Kawamura is also very neat."

"What's my range then? Better than Kikumaru but worse than…"

"Fuji. Inui is actually a close runner-up with Kikumaru," replied Tezuka easily.

Ryoma raised an eyebrow. "That's surprising. His locker was always so clean."

"His locker held his notebooks. It was a part of his work. So yes, it would have been organized."

It occurred to Ryoma then the conversation was a bit stilted. As amusing as he found it that more than half the team were actually neat freaks, he wasn't all too comfortable with the way Tezuka kept staring at him. Unblinkingly. It was as if the older man was somehow gauging him. But Ryoma had no idea what Tezuka could have been watching for. He cocked his head to the side. Already feeling too vulnerable from the day's events, he acted defensively.

"There's nothing wrong with being messy," he said, inwardly cursing at how petulant he sounded. Old habits died hard. Whenever Ryoma found himself insecure, he automatically reverted back to his twelve-year-old self. "Besides, the disorderliness has an…order."

When Tezuka failed to give him a proper response within a five second timeframe, Ryoma shook his head. Painkillers. He had never taken them in such a large dosage before and they must have been screwing with his head more than he thought.

"Is this your way of telling me you're upset with me packing your things?"

Ryoma started. He looked at Tezuka in alarm, an objection already on the tip of his tongue when he noticed the older man's smile. He hesitated and then watched him. Tezuka continued smiling. Ryoma sighed, smiling despite himself. "Still not used to you joking, Buchou."

"I'm sorry."

"You gotta work on your vocal delivery. Add a little more sarcasm to make it more obvious. If it were anyone else, they would be offended."

Tezuka looked at him again, earthy brown flashing. "If it were anyone else, I wouldn't have even tried."

Ryoma always prided himself as a quick thinker. And as much as Tezuka's words had thrown him off, he took it to stride and replied just as he normally would. "Does that make me special then?" Throw in just as much cheekiness in the words to make it not seem like he was an arrogant bastard. He was not Keigo after all.

Tezuka studied him a while longer before answering. But when he did, Ryoma had no comeback to offer.

"Perhaps."

The silence that followed seemed to please Tezuka and he went along with folding the clothes. He had finished Ryoma's packing. Now he started with his own.

Ryoma leaned back against the headboard. "Well, I guess I'll have to postpone the starting of my surfing career."

"What do you plan on doing with your spare time?"

"Who knows," shrugged Ryoma. He eyed Tezuka. "Maybe try and woo you over."

Tezuka didn't meet his gaze for a while. He continued folding his clothes for several minutes—calmly, casually. Ryoma narrowed his eyes. Such a strange dynamic was between them now. Last week it had been Ryoma in control of the game, influencing Tezuka's mood and actions with the slightest effort. Now Tezuka had gained a hold of the situation. It was obvious to Ryoma that the older man must have been thinking quite a lot the past few days. But whatever conclusions he had come up with were unknown to him—and it was beginning to bug him to no ends. Ryoma felt hesitation and some fear. He had walked into this fairly confident he would be able to win over Tezuka. Perhaps he was wrong.

"Seems like a waste of time to me," said Tezuka finally, resting his palms on his thighs. He looked up at Ryoma from the floor. "If you plan on staying in Japan for a little longer, I thought we could do something together."

For a second, Ryoma's head was blank. Then he started—almost violently—jerking up from the bed in a flash. "What?" he asked sharply. Then he cringed and gingerly massaged his side. Painkillers. They were doing jack for him. Not only were they messing with his head, but there was still hellish pain. Tezuka rose quickly and eased him back gently, apprehension in his gaze—with a just a smidge of amusement.

"You seem…a bit jumpy since you got out of the hospital."

Ryoma glared at him. "I don't do well with meds in my system."

"Ah."

"So what exactly are you proposing?"

Tezuka looked at him. "Exactly what I said."

"'Doing something…' Forgive me if that seems a bit vague. Does that imply exclusiveness?" Ryoma was beginning to feel snappy. In fact, he got the odd feeling he was channeling Keigo. He shook his head and sighed. "Sorry. I'm…a bit screwed up right now."

This time Tezuka regarded him worriedly. Ryoma almost rolled his eyes. He certainly was an expert in worrying people today. Then Tezuka moved and he was suddenly sitting by him on the bed. Ryoma looked at him in mild surprise.

"You _really _don't do well with medications," he said, smiling slightly. "The lunacy can be forgiven in favor of you saving a girl's life."

Ryoma felt the faintest threat of a blush coming to his cheeks. He suppressed the bubbling joy and giddiness in his stomach with great effort. This was certainly not his best day. On the one hand, Tezuka seemed to be genuinely expressing his feelings and was warmer to him now than all the previous occasions they were together—but Ryoma himself was sensing disaster on his side. He was acting like a schoolchild. His collectivity was AWOL. His coolness—a trait he prided in himself—had been heated to a boiling point. He was a great mess right now. So of course this had to be the moment where Tezuka would open himself to him. Ryoma had never felt so utterly vulnerable in his life. This was why he didn't do medicine. When he got sick, he isolated himself from the world to avoid any embarrassment. Echizen Ryoma and medicine did not work well together. He almost prayed for some kind of distraction.

"I…er… Yeah, thanks."

A most brilliant save if Ryoma ever saw one. He balled his fists and looked at Tezuka almost desperately. "I don't do well with people near me when I'm…unwell," he said finally, noticing how strained his own voice sounded to himself.

Tezuka blinked. "There's no need to feel embarrassed."

Ryoma could feel a weird panic rising from within. "No, not just that. It's… I get really…weird when I'm on meds. I mean _really_. Can't you tell already? I'm talking _way_ more than I usually do. I don't like people seeing this side of me."

His hands were shaking. Usually, Ryoma was able to avoid these situations by intimidation. When he was sick, he acted so explosively that even his own father avoided him at all costs. But Ryoma couldn't do that to Tezuka. Had it been anyone else he would have just said "fuck off" and be done with it. Tezuka wasn't just anyone else, though. Ryoma gripped the sheets tightly as Tezuka leaned in closer to him, feeling his forehead.

"Are you all right? Why are you so tense?"

The tenderness in Tezuka's eyes ripped through Ryoma's heart. Tezuka could be so _alive_ and beautiful sometimes that it took Ryoma's breath away. That the older man would choose to alienate himself from life reminded him of what he was supposed to do—something more important than a little embarrassment on his part. Meds or not, he did have one hell of a strong will. Surely that counted for something, right?

Taking Tezuka's hand, Ryoma squeezed it gently. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it," he said, happy to hear his voice return to normal. He allowed himself to stare at Tezuka unabashedly. "So am I allowed to think I don't need to 'woo you over' anymore?"

Tezuka seemed taken aback. But there was no real panic in his eyes. He did not attempt to take back his hand from Ryoma. "I think you're allowed to think I'm at least willing to give this—whatever it is—a chance," he replied.

For a while neither of them said a word. Ryoma held Tezuka's hand still, rubbing circles gently into his palm, drowning himself in earthy brown depths. Tezuka allowed the action to persist, gold irises piercing through him. Then Ryoma smiled. A stunningly beautiful smile, one Tezuka had never seen on the younger man. It made all the other half grins, gentle quirks, and tugging of the lips pale in comparison. It made Tezuka smile himself.

"Poor, poor Keigo," murmured Ryoma.

The words amused Tezuka. "He certainly gave me less grief than you, though."

Ryoma glowered at him darkly. Tezuka pulled his hand away and stood up from the bed. "I have to pack up everything else. We'll be leaving soon. And since you're incapacitated at the moment…"

"Hey, I didn't fracture two ribs, dislocate my shoulder, and break my leg on purpose," interjected Ryoma, though they both knew it was in good humor.

Tezuka smiled a little and bent over Ryoma, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. He kept himself from grinning when he felt the younger man's surprise. "You intrigued me the day you first came onto the tennis court. Living life so freely, so magnificently—and you say you want to light a fire in my soul… I think you have already lit a spark," he said.

He didn't wait for Ryoma to respond—in fact, he did not want him to respond. He just turned away and began rummaging through the remaining drawers, leaving an air of finality. Ryoma knew the moment was a rare one—and another would probably not happen again for a long time. He watched Tezuka's back. Such support and strength lined those muscles and frame. How long had Tezuka been the one to keep everyone secure? It was a heavy burden. Ryoma knew it from experience. He had been alone to lead a whole new group of future tennis players when all his senpai graduated. It had been an enduring journey and one that broadened his perspective considerably. His former charges would say he had been an excellent captain and one worthy of awe and respect. Ryoma knew he was never meant to be a true leader, though. He inspired people sure, but leading them was a whole other skill he never possessed or tried to hone.

Tezuka Kunimitsu—not many people would remember his name because of how he dropped off from the face of the tennis world. His friends and peers would always remember him, though. He was a legend among his generation not only for his tennis skills, but also because of his extraordinary sportsmanship. But even the best man can get sidetracked. Ryoma wondered when was the last time Tezuka had needed saving. Not only that, though, but Tezuka was changing him. Perhaps they had both been stuck in time and perception. Tezuka, allowing himself to live life from the sidelines and Ryoma, idolized by the world and fixed in eternal fame—never moving, always still. It was only by coming together were they able to stop the ebbing of time and fast forward to reality. Ryoma liked that idea.

He would have to thank his dad later for persuading him to come back to Japan.

And maybe Fuji too for his damn interfering that nonetheless aided him tremendously.

Then pay back Inui for his aspirin.

And finally, see how Tezuka fared on ice—which should be entertaining if nothing else.

That sounded like a plan.

* * *

**TBC**


End file.
